HADKSINCIAIft  DRACO 


SUZANNA 

A  Romance  of  Early  California 


"Never  fear,"   Ramon   cried.    "By  my  life,   I   swear  they 
shall   not  take   you   from  me." 


SUZANNA 


A  Romance  of  Early  California 


BY 

HARRY  SINCLAIR  DRAGO 


FRONTISPIECE   BY 

G.  W.  GAGE 


NEW  YORK 
THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1922, 
By  THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  THE   U.   S.  A. 


Dm 


CONTEXTS 

CHAPTER 

I    THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY    ......  11 

II    A  LADY'S  NAME  Is  MENTIONED      .     .     .  27 

III  THE  HONOR  OF  THE  DONS 44 

IV  SUZANNA  THE   PEON 58 

V    "DOES  THE  NAME  MATTER?"  ....  64 

VI    THE  SURPRISING  HISTORY  OF  A  PIECE  OF 

SILK 71 

VII  CHIQUITA  DE  SOLA 79 

VIII  THE  BLOOD  STRAIN 89 

IX  A  STRANGER  Is  MADE  WELCOME  .  .  .  105 

X  THE  RULE  OF  A  GENTLEMAN  ....  122 

XI  A  HOUSE  Is  PUT  IN  ORDER 133 

XII  THE  PADRINO 150 

XIII  BLOOD  WILL  TELL 167 

XIV  MISTRESS  AND  MAID 185 

XV    ALVAREZ  HAS  A  VISITOR     .     .     ,     .     .  196 

XVI    CROSS   PURPOSES      ....     .     .     .  203 

XVII    THE  PRICE  OF  FEAR      ......  213 

XVIII    "THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE"    .     ,     ,     ,     .  224 

4975?^ 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAQB 

XIX  "I  WOULD  SERVE  You  WELL"  ....  229 

XX  "!T  WILL  LEAD  TO  YOUR  DEATH"  ...  239 

XXI  "PEREZ,  I  NEED  You" 252 

XXII  THE  GROOM  TAKES  His  PLACE     ...  260 

XXIII  "THE  WAY  Is  OPEN" 267 

XXIV  "WHITHER  Do  WE  Go?"   .     .      .     .     .  273 
XXV  ALONE  AT  LAST  .     .  280 


SUZANNA 

A  Romance  of  Early  California 


SUZANNA 


CHAPTER  I 


THE    KING'S    HIGHWAY 


IT  was  high-noon.  Heat  waves  danced  across 
the  floor  of  the  arid,  sunburnt  valley.  The  brown 
California  hills,  broken,  irregular,  arose  in  the  dis 
tance  to  bar  the  way.  The  year  was  1835,  and 
summer  so  far  gone  that  the  young,  tufted  moun 
tain  quail  were  flying. 

Stretching  away  across  the  long  desert  leagues, 
white  with  its  own  dust,  wound  El  Camino  Real — 
the  King's  highway — a  well-worn  trail  at  best,  for 
all  its  high-sounding  title.  And  yet,  with  perse 
verance,  it  won  through  deserts  and  over  mighty 
ranges,  circled  mountain  torrents  or  bridged 
chasms.  Weeks  and  weeks  away  to  the  south  and 
east  it  took  you;  but  eventually  one  arrived  in  Mex 
ico  City,  then  the  flower  of  the  Americas. 

11 


12  SUZANNA 


Where  the  road  dipped  down  into  this  wide  val 
ley  was  but  the  starting  point  of  that  long  trek 
southward.  For,  only  some  ten  leagues  behind 
those  low  hills  to  the  north,  lay  Monterey. 

Wealth  untold  flowed  back  and  forth  over  this 
highway.  Doughty  men-at-arms,  ladies  of  surpass 
ing  beauty,  humble  friars,  coarse  ruffians  and  bet 
ter  mannered  banditti  suffered  each  in  turn,  or 
prospered,  upon  its  bosom.  From  governor-gen 
eral  and  high  dignitaries  of  church  to  poorest  In 
dian  neophyte,  not  one  but  whose  eyes  turned  from 
time  to  time  to  El  Camino  Real.  It  was  much  more 
than  an  artery  of  trade.  For  California,  it  was  the 
source  of  news ;  the  producer  of  revenue ;  the  means 
by  which  the  children  of  the  conquistador es  caught 
the  pulse  of  the  land  of  their  fathers:  also — be 
cause  of  the  coarse  ruffians  and  their  more  gently 
mannered  brothers  by  profession — it  became  the 
abiding  place  of  danger. 

But  on  this  day,  however,  neither  man  nor  beast 
appeared  to  break  the  somnolent  spell  of  the  torrid 
noon-time.  One  gazed  in  vain  across  the  valley 
for  sight  of  moving  thing.  Rabbits  and  coyotes 
had  long  since  taken  to  the  hills  and  the  shade  of 
the  chamiso  and  manzanita.  Only  to  the  north  did 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY  13 

the  eye  catch  the  stir  of  living  object, — a  giant  vul 
ture,  wheeling  lazily  in  the  cloudless  sky. 

Round  and  round  the  grisly  thing  circled,  dis 
daining  to  come  to  earth.  Suddenly,  then,  it 
straightened  its  wings  and  rose  in  sweeping  rushes 
until  it  was  but  a  speck  in  the  heavens.  Five  min 
utes  later  a  small  dust-cloud  appeared  above  the 
pass  where  the  road  cut  through  the  hills.  The 
little  cloud  grew  as  it  advanced.  The  cavalcade  of 
mules  and  horses  which  caused  it  quickly  came 
into  view. 

Outriders  rode  ahead;  armed  horsemen  brought 
up  the  rear.  Between  these  guards  rode  some  four 
or  five  men.  Immediately  behind  them  thundered 
an  eight-mule-team  pulling  a  heavily  wheeled 
wagon. 

Once  free  of  the  pass,  the  little  company  closed 
up.  Foam  dripped  from  the  muzzles  of  their 
mounts.  The  youthful  leader  held  up  his  hand  and 
the  party  slackened  its  pace. 

The  captain  of  the  cavalcade  was  hardly  more 
than  a  boy,  for  all  that  he  gave  his  orders  with  a 
fine  sense  of  authority.  He  voiced  a  warm,  care 
free  laugh  as  he  sheathed  his  blade  and  lowered 
the  hammers  of  his  muzzle-loading  pistol. 


14  SUZANNA 


"Safe!"  he  cried,  turning  toward  the  white- 
faced  young  man  who  rode  at  his  side.  "Bah, 
Miguel,  you've  no  heart  for  danger.  You  and 
your  books, — look  to  yourself,  man;  you're  white 
of  face.  Come,  let's  have  a  smile." 

The  student  colored  and  swallowed  heavily  un 
der  this  banter;  but  he  made  no  attempt  to  do  as 
he  was  bidden. 

"Do  not  ask  me  to  smile,  Ramon,  not  after  this 
mad  ride,"  he  muttered.  "Time  to  talk  of  smiling 
when  we've  come  safely  through  yonder  pass. 
Perez  knows  that  the  smuggler  is  at  anchor 
in  the  bay,  and  that  there  will  be  wagons  coming 
back  to  the  ranchos  with  goods.  Don't  expect  him 
to  overlook  such  an  opportunity." 

Ramon's  eyes  snapped  with  good-natured  merri 
ment.  "Oyez!"  he  cried  aloud.  "Hear — hear! 
And  did  you  not  say  the  same  thing  as  we  ap 
proached  this  pass  in  back  of  us?  You  have  seen 
Perez  under  every  clump  of  manzanita  since  we 
quitted  Monterey.  Indeed  you  are  the  true  son  of 
a  lawyer.  God  pity  poor  Perez  if  he  is  ever 
brought  up  before  you." 

Miguel  threw  up  his  head  at  this.  "Fine  talk 
you  make  of  pity  for  him." 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY  15 

"And  why  not?"  the  aggravating  Ramon  de 
manded.  "He  is  a  professional  man  the  same  as 
yourself.  You  work  with  the  law;  he  without  it. 
What's  the  difference, — it's  only  a  matter  of  choice. 
You  will  grow  rich;  poor  Perez  will  lose  his  head. 
The  pity  all  belongs  to  him." 

"H'm,"  the  young  lawyer  snorted.  "And  you 
mean  it — well  I  know  you  do.  I  half  wish  your 
abused  bandit  stops  us.  The  man  has  robbed  and 
murdered  his  way  to  Mexico  City  and  back." 

"Of  course.  The  man  is  a  success.  But  he 
only  robs  and  kills  the  rich" — with  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulders — "the  rich  can  stand  it." 

"You  will  be  fair  meat,  then,"  Miguel  retorted 
hotly. 

His  words  brought  a  grin  to  Ramon's  face.  They 
understood  each  other  very  well,  indeed.  And, 
although  they  were  of  different  castes,  and  the  fam 
ily  of  one  served  the  other,  the  impress  of  this  new 
country  had  already  set  to  work  a  spirit  of  broad 
ness  never  known  in  ancient  Castillo. 

"Indeed,  what  a  sweet  plum  you  would  be  for 
friend  Perez,"  Miguel  went  on.  "The  son  of  the 
richest,  caught — captured — led  away  into  the 
hills.  Why,  he  would  bleed  your  father's  purse 


16  SUZANNA 


until  it  was  as  impoverished  as  my  own  family's." 

"Captured?"  Ramon  echoed.  "But  I  hold  my 
self  no  coward — and  friend  Perez — by  all  accounts 
— is  no  poltroon,  either.  Why  talk  of  capture? 
We  may  meet;  but  one  will  not  run  the  other  off." 

"We  shall  see,"  his  friend  replied  glumly. 
"Things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  when  a  man  may 
not  set  forth  without  fear  of  his  life.  Conditions 
go  from  bad  to  worse.  We  are  a  nation  of  law 
breakers  to-day." 

"Oh,  muchachito,  you  moralizing — you  who 
have  this  day  purchased  contraband  goods — cloth 
ing,  shoes  and  what  not — from  a  smuggler?  Un 
less  my  eyes  have  failed  me,  I  saw  the  advocate- 
general  himself  aboard  ship  haggling  over  the 
price  of  a  piece  of  silk.  And  our  neighbors, — our 
rich,  haughty  grandees — were  they  not  there,  too? 
And  yet,  you  turn  up  your  nose  at  poor  Perez.  I 
tell  you,  it  is  each  man  for  himself.  Why  should 
we  pay  a  hundred  per  cent  tax  to  Mexico?  We 
are  not  pawns.  Perez,  now,  has  some  claim  on 
us.  He,  at  least,  spends  his  gains  in  our  cities." 

The  young  lawyer  made  a  wry  face  as  Ramon 
went  on.  The  boy's  talk  was  heretical,  treason 
able;  but  it  was  only  a  fair  sample  of  what  one 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY  17 

heard  on  every  side.  The  days  of  peace  and  plenty 
were,  apparently,  over.  Mexico  had  granted  Cali- 
f  ornia*a  constitution ;  with  it  had  come  a  new  order 
of  things.  Men  of  affairs  in  the  colony  were  won 
dering  already  if  they  had  moved  in  the  right 
direction.  Taxes  had  increased  by  leaps  and 
bounds;  civil  law  had  become  a  jest;  and  worst 
of  all,  the  soldiers,  who  had  been  sent  in  answer  to 
urgent  appeals  for  protection  of  some  sort,  were 
convicts,  and  often  a  greater  source  of  evil  than 
the  bandits  whom  they  were  supposed  to  suppress. 

The  state  was  being  torn  apart  with  jealousies  of 
one  sort  and  another.  The  wealthy  families  of  the 
south  were  insisting  that  the  capital  be  removed 
from  Monterey  to  Los  Angeles.  And  Mexico,  star 
vation  poor  from  her  war  with  Spain,  was  unable 
to  pay  the  officers  of  her  army.  Revolts  followed ; 
sectional  leaders  appeared,  eager  to  enhance  their 
own  positions  in  this  time  of  unrest. 

But  this  strife  was  directly  traceable  to,  and 
quite  overshadowed  by  an  epoch-marking  economic 
change  which  was  destined  to  make  history. 
Namely,  the  secularization  of  the  Indian  neophytes. 

By  one  means  or  another,  the  decree  of  the 
Spanish  Cortes,  ordering  the  secularization  of  the 


18  SUZANNA 


Mission  Indians,  had  not  been  published  in  Cali 
fornia  until  1821.  Since  that  time  it  had  been  a 
burning  topic  of  conversation.  And  since  it  af 
fected  every  man  in  the  province,  it  followed,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  that  revolutions,  bitterness  and 
distrust  came. 

One  heard  talk  of  the  rights  of  peons,  of  In 
dians,  of  the  sins  of  the  friars — and  this  in  a  land 
where  the  Franciscans  had  been  supreme  for  some 
fifty  years,  administering  the  moral,  and  often 
times  the  civil  law.  They  had  preached  the  salva 
tion  of  the  soul;  but,  intellectually,  the  mission 
system  had  accomplished  nothing.  The  red  men 
were  virtually  slaves.  They  worked  up  wool, 
tanned  hides,  prepared  tallow  and  produced  the 
major  amount  of  California's  exports.  Economi 
cally,  therefor,  the  missions  were  the  life  and  blood 
of  the  province.  Secularization  meant  the  freeing 
of  the  Indians,  the  restoring  to  them  of  the  rights 
of  freemen. 

Republican  ideas  were  abroad  even  at  this  early 
date  in  California.  This  element  acclaimed  the 
new  order  with  triumph.  The  adherents  of  the 
Church,  on  the  other  hand,  viewed  it  with  conster 
nation.  It  meant  the  passing  of  the  missions;  the 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY  19 

loss  of  a  kingly  ransom  to  the  papal  coffers.  In 
addition  to  these  two  parties  there  was  a  third,  the 
owners  of  the  great  haciendas.  Unhappily,  this 
class  was  divided  among  itself.  The  freeing  of  the 
Indians  was  certain  to  affect  them  more  than  it 
would  any  other  class  in  the  province.  Some  said 
that  secularization  meant  cheap  labor,  and  they 
were  for  it  on  that  account.  Others  saw  the  com 
plete  independence  of  the  peon  as  the  next  step, 
should  the  neophytes  be  freed.  Giving  the  peon 
the  rights  of  freemen  meant  the  establishing  of  him 
as  a  social  as  well  as  economic  equal.  The 
patrician  dons  revolted  at  this.  Almost  equally 
they  resented  the  heavy  hand  of  the  Church,  and 
so,  as  a  compromise,  they  had  espoused  the  cause 
of  a  strict  military  dictatorship. 

The  storm  of  revolt  against  the  old  regime  was 
not  to  be  denied,  however.  The  Republicans  arose 
and  drove  Victoria,  the  military  governor,  out  of 
the  state.  The  Franciscans,  realizing  that  the  in 
evitable  was  about  to  happen,  were  plundering 
and  destroying  the  Mission  property.  It  was  the 
beginning  of  the  end.  A  new  regime,  "less  mild, 
less  hospitable,  less  contented ;  but  better  tempered 


20  SUZANNA 


for  the  building  of  a  state"  was  about  to  be  inaugu 
rated. 

It  may  be  surmised  from  the  foregoing  that  more 
than  one  family  found  its  members  set  against  each 
other.  It  was  so  with  the  House  of  Gutierrez. 
Ramon,  as  can  be  judged  from  his  talk,  was  vio 
lently  Republican.  His  father,  the  aged  Don  Fer 
nando — a  true  Castillian  grandee — a  royalist  and 
conservatist  without  brook  or  hindrance.  Between 
them  there  was  the  clash  of  unbending  wills. 

This  square  jawed,  dancing-eyed  boy  was  the 
son  of  his  father.  The  head  of  the  House  of 
Gutierrez  drew  what  comfort  he  could  from  that 
thought.  Hot  words  had  passed  between  them  al 
ready.  Young  Alvarez,  the  lawyer's  son,  had  heard 
the  old  Castillian  threaten  to  disinherit  the  boy 
for  his  revolutionary  ideas.  Ramon  had  smiled. 

As  the  little  cavalcade  moved  across  the  valley 
Miguel  thought  of  his  friend's  ability  to  smile  in 
the  face  of  such  a  calamity.  He  knew  that  he,  for 
one,  would  have  been  among  the  last  to  smile.  The 
old  order  of  things  quite  satisfied  young  Alvarez. 
His  father  had  risen  to  a  position  of  dignity  and 
some  affluence  through  the  good  graces  of  his 
wealthy  patrons  and  the  protecting  arm  of  the 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY 21 

Church.  Miguel  had  no  ambition  beyond  striving 
to  emulate  his  honored  sire.  Ramon's  free  speech 
filled  him  with  resentment.  He  did  not  doubt  but 
what  time  would  show  his  friend  the  folly  of  his 
ways.  And  Miguel  took  a  secret  pleasure  in  hop 
ing  that  when  enlightenment  came  it  would  sink 
its  barb  deep  enough  into  Ramon's  soul  to  cure 
him  of  his  cocksureness  about  everything  in 
general. 

The  heat  became  so  intense  that  the  boys'  con 
versation  languished.  Not  until  their  horses  be 
gan  climbing  the  benchlands  which  led  up  to  the 
pass  ahead  of  them  did  Miguel  speak  again. 
Ramon  slept  in  his  saddle,  swaying  easily  from  side 
to  side  with  the  motion  of  his  horse.  The  peon 
guard  lounged  along  in  the  rear  of  the  wagon,  eyes 
closed,  oblivious  to  any  possible  danger. 

Miguel  glanced  ahead  to  where  the  cool,  inviting 
shadows  of  the  pass  met  the  eye.  Its  coolness 
called  to  him  in  vain.  He  knew  there  were  nar 
row  defiles  and  sharp  turnings  beyond  which  were 
made  to  order  for  the  highwayman.  Pulling  up 
his  horse,  he  dropped  back  until  he  rode  beside 
Ramon. 


22  SUZANNA 


"Ea,  ea,  brave  one,"  he  exclaimed.  "Do  we 
go  on  without  taking  any  precautions  whatever?" 

Ramon  yawned  provokingly  before  replying. 

"Si,  muchachito"  he  murmured  sleepily,  "for 
your  sake  we  will  take  every  precaution." 

Ramon's  tone  was  keenly  sarcastic.  Miguel's 
face  flushed  as  he  saw  him  wave  his  guards  ahead 
with  an  extravagant  gesture. 

"Ruiz,"  the  boy  heard  him  address  the  grim- 
visaged  leader  of  the  peons,  "we  will  wait  in  the 
open  until  you  sound  the  bell, — that  is  if  friend 
Perez  has  not  stolen  it,  clapper  and  post." 

Old  Ruiz's  lips  parted  in  a  mirthless  grin.  His 
master  jested;  but  Ruiz  had  heard  tales  of  bandits 
carrying  off  the  bells  placed  in  the  passes.  These 
bells  served  the  purpose  of  signals  to  the  wagon- 
trains  waiting  in  the  more  open  country  where  they 
were  less  liable  to  be  pounced  upon.  The  custom 
was,  as  in  this  instance,  to  send  ahead  a  mounted 
guard  to  explore  the  defile.  When  this  advance 
guard  had  made  sure  that  no  foe  lay  in  waiting, 
the  bell  would  be  sounded  and  the  teams  would 
dash  through  to  the  succeeding  valley. 

Ramon  caught  the  look  in  the  old  man's  eyes. 
"Madre  de  Dios"  he  cried  sharply.  "We  are  not 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY 23 

three  leagues  from  the  rancho.  My  father  can  mus 
ter  a  hundred  men,  if  needs  be.  Do  you  think 
Perez  or  his  like  court  fighting  against  such  odds? 
If  this  senseless  talk  keeps  up  we'll  all  be  slinking 
about  the  hacienda  itself  come  another  month.  Get 
off  now,  and  look  to  it  that  your  own  shadow  is 
not  sending  you  back  a  sniveling  paisano" 

Some  ten  men  remained  behind  with  the  wagon. 
They  were  mounted,  and  now  formed  a  circle  about 
the  train.  Ramon  smiled  at  Miguel  as  he  saw  the 
men  take  their  places.  "Art  satisfied  now,  reck 
less  one?"  he  demanded. 

Poor  Miguel  trembled  in  impotent  rage  as  his 
friend  baited  him  on.  "I  hold  my  head  to  better 
things  than  prowess  with  a  sword  or  accuracy  with 
a  pistol,"  he  answered  wrathfully.  "Had  I  but  to 
please  myself,  as  you  so  boldly  do,  I,  too,  had  time 
for  the  graces  of  a  caballero.  Your  Republican 
ideals  but  mock  you  in  shaming  me  for  having  held 
my  nose  to  books  that  I  might  win  a  place  for  my 
self  in  this  new  world." 

Miguel's  words  rubbed  the  smile  from  Ramon's 
face;  his  eyes  filling  with  contrition  as  he  saw  how 
deeply  his  friend  was  hurt.  Impulsively  he  placed 
his  hand  upon  the  boy's  shoulder.  "Forgive  me, 


24  SUZANNA 


compafiero"  he  pleaded.  "  'Twas  all  in  fun,  and 
well  you  know  it.  Stick  to  your  books  say  I.  In 
deed  shall  we  need  the  like  of  you.  The  time 
comes  when  we  shall  be  done  with  Mexico  even  as 
we  were  done  with  Spain.  We  shall  have  our  own 
laws.  And  you,  jovencito,  shall  help  to  frame 
them." 

"There  you  go!"  Miguel  cried  with  a  toss  of 
his  head,  "tempering  your  humbleness  with  farther 
empty  boastings.  Your  talk  is  well  calculated  to 
lead  you  to  the  gibbet,  yet.  I,  for  one,  would 

not "  Miguel  did  not  finish  his  admonition. 

His  keen  eyes  had  caught  the  movement  of  Ramon's 
hand  as  he  reached  for  his  sword.  He  saw  the 
boy's  mouth  straighten,  his  body  stiffen;  and  poor 
Miguel,  dreading  to  confirm  his  instant  suspicion, 
turned  and  gazed  at  the  dark  pass  ahead  of  them. 

"Virgen  santa!"  he  muttered,  the  words  almost 
strangling  him.  Subconsciously  he  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross. 

Four  men  had  broken  from  cover  and  were  dash 
ing  toward  the  wagon-train.  They  waved  their 
guns  and  gave  voice  to  a  series  of  wild,  blood- 
chilling  cries  as  they  rode.  At  first  Miguel  took 
them  for  Ruiz  and  his  guard;  but  as  the  boy  con- 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY  25 

turned  to  stare  at  them,  mouth  open,  eyes  wide 
with  terror,  the  four  men  became  eight,  ten,  twelve, 
fourteen ! 

"Perez!"  broke  with  a  shriek  from  the  boy's 
lips  as  understanding  flashed  within  him.  "It's 
Perez  and  his  band  of  cut-throats!" 

A  curse  escaped  the  lips  of  the  youthful  leader 
as  he  perceived  that  Miguel  spoke  the  truth.  The 
peon  guard  was  panic  stricken  already.  The  boy's 
mouth  straightened  as  he  observed  them.  He  was 
in  for  a  fight,  now,  and  although  his  party  out 
numbered  the  other,  he  realized  the  calibre  of  his 
men.  That  they  would  stand  up  before  Perez  and 
fight  was  not  to  be  hoped  for.  And  yet,  as  the 
bandit  crew  dashed  toward  him,  Ramon  determined 
to  resist  them. 

He  found  time  to  ask  himself  what  had  happened 
to  Ruiz  and  his  men.  Ruiz  was  too  wary  to  walk 
into  a  trap  with  his  eyes  open.  The  boy  fumed 
at  his  stupidity  in  having  sent  his  best  men  ahead. 
With  hope  born  of  desperation,  he  drew  his  sword 
and  made  ready  for  the  oncoming  outlaws. 

"Fool!"  Miguel  cried.  "Don't  you  see  that  it 
is  Perez?" 

"Croaker,  you  are  right  for  once!     He's  ridden 


24  SUZANNA 


companero"  he  pleaded.  "  Twas  all  in  fun,  and 
well  you  know  it.  Stick  to  your  books  say  I.  In 
deed  shall  we  need  the  like  of  you.  The  time 
comes  when  we  shall  be  done  with  Mexico  even  as 
we  were  done  with  Spain.  We  shall  have  our  own 
laws.  And  you,  jovencito,  shall  help  to  frame 
them." 

"There  you  go!"  Miguel  cried  with  a  toss  of 
his  head,  "tempering  your  humbleness  with  farther 
empty  boastings.  Your  talk  is  well  calculated  to 
lead  you  to  the  gibbet,  yet.  I,  for  one,  would 

not "  Miguel  did  not  finish  his  admonition. 

His  keen  eyes  had  caught  the  movement  of  Ramon's 
hand  as  he  reached  for  his  sword.  He  saw  the 
boy's  mouth  straighten,  his  body  stiffen;  and  poor 
Miguel,  dreading  to  confirm  his  instant  suspicion, 
turned  and  gazed  at  the  dark  pass  ahead  of  them. 

"Virgen  santa!"  he  muttered,  the  words  almost 
strangling  him.  Subconsciously  he  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross. 

Four  men  had  broken  from  cover  and  were  dash 
ing  toward  the  wagon-train.  They  waved  their 
guns  and  gave  voice  to  a  series  of  wild,  blood- 
chilling  cries  as  they  rode.  At  first  Miguel  took 
them  for  Ruiz  and  his  guard;  but  as  the  boy  con- 


THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY  25 

tiniied  to  stare  at  them,  mouth  open,  eyes  wide 
with  terror,  the  four  men  became  eight,  ten,  twelve, 
fourteen! 

"Perez!"  broke  with  a  shriek  from  the  boy's 
lips  as  understanding  flashed  within  him.  "It's 
Perez  and  his  band  of  cut-throats!" 

A  curse  escaped  the  lips  of  the  youthful  leader 
as  he  perceived  that  Miguel  spoke  the  truth.  The 
peon  guard  was  panic  stricken  already.  The  boy's 
mouth  straightened  as  he  observed  them.  He  was 
in  for  a  fight,  now,  and  although  his  party  out 
numbered  the  other,  he  realized  the  calibre  of  his 
men.  That  they  would  stand  up  before  Perez  and 
fight  was  not  to  be  hoped  for.  And  yet,  as  the 
bandit  crew  dashed  toward  him,  Ramon  determined 
to  resist  them. 

He  found  time  to  ask  himself  what  had  happened 
to  Ruiz  and  his  men.  Ruiz  was  too  wary  to  walk 
into  a  trap  with  his  eyes  open.  The  boy  fumed 
at  his  stupidity  in  having  sent  his  best  men  ahead. 
With  hope  born  of  desperation,  he  drew  his  sword 
and  made  ready  for  the  oncoming  outlaws. 

"Fool!"  Miguel  cried.  "Don't  you  see  that  it 
is  Perez?" 

"Croaker,  you  are  right  for  once!     He's  ridden 


26  SUZANNA 


in  between  Ruiz  and  us.  Well,  look  to  yourself 
now!  Close  your  ears  to  those  cries;  they've  driven 
off  more  men  than  his  guns  ever  have." 

"But  we  are  only  a  handful!  These  peons  will 
not  fight.  We  had  best  run  while  we  can." 

Ramon  shook  his  head  slowly.  "No,"  he  snarled, 
his  eyes  narrowing;  disgust  for  the  other's  coward 
ice  contorting  his  mouth.  "I  stay!  Run,  you  with 
your  rabbit's  soul!  My  father  has  already  called 
me  fool.  For  Dios  he'll  not  write  coward  after  my 
name.  I  am  going  to  fight!" 


CHAPTER  II 
A  LADY'S  NAME  is  MENTIONED 

PEREZ  and  his  band  began  to  circle  when  they 
were  still  some  three  hundred  yards  away.  It  was 
a  well-known  Indian  maneuver  long  since  adopted 
by  road-agents.  It  reduced  the  morale  of  those  at 
bay  to  the  minimum.  Also,  it  resulted  in  a  sur 
prisingly  small  loss  of  life  among  the  attackers. 

Ramon  hurled  orders  at  his  peons  as  he  saw  him 
self  being  surrounded.  The  poor  devils  had  no 
heart  for  this  affair.  All  of  them  were  supplied 
with  guns  and  had  some  minor  skill  with  them;  but 
the  boy  realized  how  little  he  could  expect  from 
them  as  they  glanced  at  him,  the  whites  of  their  eyes 
showing,  their  muscles  seemingly  atrophied. 

"When  I  give  the  order,"  Ramon  cried,  "you 
fire.  I'll  run  my  blade  through  the  heart  of  the 
one  who  throws  down  his  gun.  Ruiz  will  hear  the 
shooting.  If  his  party  has  not  been  captured,  he'll 
come  to  our  aid.  Take  to  the  ground,  now!" 

The  mules  and  horses  had  been  hobbled  and 
27 


28  SUZANNA 


thrown.  Using  their  bodies  as  a  sort  of  breast 
work,  the  little  party  crouched  behind  them  and 
waited. 

The  wily  Perez  stayed  the  advance  of  his  men 
when  he  deemed  that  their  circle  had  narrowed 
sufficiently.  Without  waiting  for  the  order,  his  men 
threw  themselves  to  the  ground  even  as  their  quarry 
had.  Perez  smiled  as  he  viewed  the  preparations 
of  the  besieged. 

"Well,  Pablo,"  he  said  with  a  grunt  of  apprecia 
tion  to  his  lieutenant,  "the  boy  is  no  fool.  And 
yet,  the  cattle  he  counts  on  to  win  his  battle  will  but 
defeat  him.  Indeed  'twill  take  but  a  little  well- 
placed  lead  to  bring  those  quickly  hobbled  mules 
to  their  feet.  I'll  wager  my  head  that  when  they 
begin  plunging  the  seiior's  carbineers  will  take  to 
their  heels.  Let's  be  at  it." 

The  men  who  rode  with  Benito  Perez  were  old 
hands  at  this  game.  A  satisfied  grin  sat  upon  their 
leader's  face  as  he  watched  the  effect  of  the  firing 
which  followed.  It  was  as  he  had  foreseen.  The 
improvised  hobbles  were  kicked  off  as  the  wounded 
animals  struggled  to  get  to  their  feet.  Once  upon 
all  fours,  the  mules  and  horses  limped  or  galloped 
off,  leaving  the  peons  exposed  to  their  enemies. 


A  LADY'S  NAME  IS  MENTIONED       29 

Slow  as  their  mental  faculties  were,  it  took  Ra 
mon's  men  no  great  time  to  digest  the  fact  that 
theirs  was  a  most  unhappy  position,  and  that  it  mat 
tered  little  whether  they  remained  where  they  were, 
to  be  shot  down  by  Perez  and  his  band,  or  died  by 
their  leader's  sword  in  attempting  to  escape. 

Whatever  advantage  the  scales  held  inclined  in 
favor  of  the  latter  chance.  Perez  would  most  cer 
tainly  kill  them;  Don  Ramon,  on  the  other  hand, 
might  take  compassion  on  them. 

Hope  springs  eternal,  and  a  chance  is  always  a 
chance  whether  it  falls  to  the  lot  of  don  or  peon. 
Enough  that  they  became  obsessed  to  get  themselves 
elsewhere.  A  stealthy,  calculating  look  toward 
their  leader  and  they  were  off,  the  music  of  Perez's 
guns  to  speed  them  on. 

This  defection  came  so  quickly  that  Ramon  was 
left  inert  for  a  minute.  Perez  saw  him  get  to  his 
feet.  The  bandit  grinned  as  he  heard  the  boy 
curse  his  men  for  the  cowards  they  were.  And 
then,  as  he  watched,  he  saw  him  empty  his  pistol  at 
the  fleeing  wretches. 

"For  Dios9  Pablo,"  Perez  laughed,  "see  him! 
There's  good  stuff  in  the  boy,  I  tell  you,  even 
though  his  aim  is  not  the  best.  He'll  handle  a 


30  SUZANNA 


sword  better  than  he  does  a  gun.  And  that  other 
one,  that  sniveling  clown  beneath  the  wagon — 'tis 
the  lawyer's  cub,  is  it  not?" 

Perez  chuckled  to  himself.  "Well  he  trembles," 
he  added.  "He  has  the  many  threats  father  lawyer 
has  made  upon  my  head  to  console  him."  The 
bandit  chieftain  got  to  his  feet  boldly.  "Let  you 
and  the  others  stay  back,"  he  ordered.  "I'll  have 
speech  with  our  young  knight." 

With  a  dignity  that  was  little  short  of  regal,  for 
all  his  barbaric  splendor,  Perez  strode  toward  the 
wagon.  The  boy  suffered  him  to  approach  to 
within  ten  yards  of  the  spot  where  he  stood  before 
he  spoke  to  him. 

Although  Ramon  had  never  met  the  man,  he  knew 
from  a  hundred  descriptions  of  him  that  he  faced 
Perez.  There  was  a  certain  swagger  to  the  man, 
a  sense  of  poise  and  conceit  which  was  not  lost  on 
the  boy. 

A  devilish  leer  to  the  once  handsome  mouth,  a 
light  in  his  eyes  as  cold  as  snow-capped  moun 
tains,  and  the  sagging  cheek  muscles  of  one  who 
drank  too  much,  were  not  enough  to  conceal  the 
fact  that  the  man  had  once  been  a  highly  promising 
gentleman. 


A  LADY'S  NAME  IS  MENTIONED       31 

The  boy  had  it  upon  his  tongue  to  stay  the 
other's  advance,  when  Perez  stopped  of  his  own 
accord.  They  took  stock  of  each  other  before 
either  spoke. 

Perez  was  the  first  to  break  silence.  "My  re 
gards,  young  sir,"  he  said,  accompanying  his 
words  with  a  sweeping  gesture  of  his  sombrero. 
"A  thousand  pardons  for  so  forcibly  ejecting  my 
self  upon  you;  but  in  truth  there  is  no  other  way 
in  which  the  lowly  may  meet  those  of  high  estate. 
And  yet  it  grieves  me  to  annoy  one  who  is  so  evi 
dently  cut  to  my  own  pattern.  You  do  well;  but 
you  are  young.  In  time  you  will  learn  many 
things;  let  the  first  of  them  be,  not  to  put  trust  in 
peon  stock.  They  are  as  you  have  fashioned 
them "  Perez  shook  his  head.  "In  your  tail 
oring  of  them  to  do  as  they  were  bade,  you  forgot 
their  spirit.  You  cut  and  trimmed  it  along  with 
their  bodies.  And  now — poor  devils — they're 
nought  but  sheep.  But  here  is  too  much  talk  of 
mice  and  men.  Allow  me  to  present  myself — in 
lieu  of  trusting  friend,  I,  sir,  am  Benito  Perez.  And 
you  will  be ?" 

"Well  enough  you  know  me,  you  jesting  devil," 
Ramon  answered  hotly.  "You  have  either  fooled 


32  SUZANNA 


and  killed  my  scouts — or  both,  for  the  matter  of 
that;  you  have  seen  those  bastard  peons  run  to  cover 
like  rabbits  before  a  wolf;  you  know  that  I  face 
you  alone — for  that  poor  wretch  beneath  the  wagon 
is  but  a  student  of  books,  a  helpless  creature,  of  no 
aid  to  me  in  this  hour — I  am  outnumbered,  sadly 
so,  and  there  is  no  hand  to  help  me  but  my  own; 
but  I  would  know  what  you  intend." 

"  Tis  a  brave  speech,"  Perez  declared,  not  un 
kindly,  "and  one  to  my  liking.  With  things  so 
heavily  set  against  you,  it  pleases  me  to  hear  you 
make  plain  talk.  I  had  but  to  raise  my  finger  to 
have  you  bound  and  on  the  way  to  my  camp  in  the 
hills.  The  contents  of  yonder  wagon,  all  unlaw 
ful  goods  I'll  swear,  fill  my  eyes  with  itching 
curiosity.  But  even  so,  I  blush  to  say  that  I  am 
hard  put  to  think  only  of  contraband.  You  your 
self  are  so  rich  a  prize  that  already  my  fingers  are 
counting  the  pesetas  your  honorable  father  would 
pay  to  have  you  returned  to  him." 

"Nay,  that  you  shall  not  do,"  the  boy  exclaimed. 
"The  goods  I  waive;  but  you  will  not  have  me 
alive." 

"No?    And  how  do  you  avoid  the  inevitable?" 

"With  fair  ease,  if  half  that  I  have  heard  of  you 


A  LADY'S  NAME  IS  MENTIONED        33 

were  true.  Only  this  day  have  I  spoken  good 
words  in  your  defense.  Time  there  was  on  this 
continent  when  men  of  our  blood  fought  with 
honor  for  all.  My  men  have  left  me  alone  on  the 
field;  you  still  have  yours,  but  that  were  a  small 
matter  indeed  between  gentlemen.  Man,  we  are 
two  leaders.  Here  and  now  will  I  do  combat  with 
you,  and  who  wins  shall  go  free.  If  it  falls  that 
I  am  the  fortunate  one,  your  men  shall  raise  no 
hand  to  stop  me.  What  sayest  you  to  that,  friend 
Perez?" 

For  an  instant  the  bandit's  eyes  lost  their  cold 
ness.  Here  indeed  was  a  man!  This  boy's  talk 
was  not  the  empty  boasting  of  unbearded  youth. 

"And  you  so  easily  hope  to  win  free,  eh?"  he 
asked  in  bantering  tones.  "No!  More  like  I 
should  run  you  through  at  first  thrust.  More  times 
than  I  have  hairs  on  my  head  have  I  held  my  life 
forfeit  against  my  skill  with  the  dancing  steel. 
Men  skilled  in  arms  have  held  me  no  mean  antago 
nist.  Many  there  have  been  to  say  I  was  un 
matched,  and  though  flattery  is  the  coin  that  circu 
lates  in  the  lives  of  those  who  live  by  the  sword 
and  gun,  still,  I  have  come  safely  through,  up  un 
til  now.  Your  words  do  you  proud;  but  for  all  of 


36  SUZANNA 


ness.  Tis  easy  now  to  see  from  where  your  assur 
ance  sprang.  Canst  parry  this?" 

And  with  lightning-like  swiftness  the  man 
lunged  for  the  boy's  heart.  Ramon  could  not  get 
out  of  his  way.  A  backward  step  was  all  he  could 
allow  himself  at  best. 

Perez'  eyes  narrowed  as  he  saw  his  opening. 
The  smile  was  gone  from  his  face  and  there  re 
mained  only  cupidity,  cruelty,  and  the  mirthless 
grin  of  the  killer.  He  set  himself,  ready  for  his 
opponent's  backward  step  which  should  deliver 
the  boy  to  him. 

Too  late,  he  saw  that  Ramon  braced  himself 
where  he  stood.  Rare  intelligence  had  whispered 
to  the  boy  that  retreat  would  only  leave  him  un 
balanced  and  a  fair  target.  To  stand  his  ground 
could  be  no  more  dangerous.  A  snap  of  his  wrist 
altered  the  direction  of  his  blade,  so  that  it  flashed 
at  Perez'  wrist.  By  the  time  it  fell,  the  boy's 
shoulder  was  behind  it. 

The  older  man  saw  his  danger,  but  there  was 
left  him  only  the  chance  that  his  steel  would  reach 
the  other  in  time. 

A  gasp  escaped  the  onlookers,  all  fair  swords 
men  themselves.  They  knew  that  the  decision  in> 


A  LADY'S  NAME  IS  MENTIONED        37 

pended  and  that  it  hung  upon  who  should  strike 
first, — a  space  of  time  so  slight  that  to  call  it  a 
second  is  to  exaggerate. 

Even  with  the  thought  came  the  answer, — a  loud 
ringing  of  steel  upon  steel,  their  leader's  sword 
broken  off  short  and  the  boy  facing  them  un 
scathed.  Remained  now  but  for  him  to  finish  his 
antagonist. 

Pablo  groaned  as  understanding  flashed  upon 
him;  but  he  made  no  move  to  turn  the  scales.  He 
was  an  outlaw  with  a  price  on  his  head,  as  indeed 
were  his  fellows;  they  were  without  morals,  illit 
erate,  but  they  had  their  code.  Perez,  himself, 
refused  to  reach  for  his  pistol.  Quixotic?  But 
such  ideas  were  abroad  in  1835. 

With  the  point  of  his  blade  resting  upon  his  boot, 
Ramon  stood  facing  Perez.  The  boy's  face  was 
flushed,  his  brow  wet  with  perspiration. 

"Get  at  your  pig  sticking,"  the  highwayman 
thundered. 

"Let  that  remain  for  butchers.  I  am  no  peon," 
the  boy  flung  back  at  him. 

"So  I  perceive,"  Perez  said  tauntingly,  "and  yet 
I  hear  that  you  are  passing  fond  of  one  who  is." 

Hot  anger  flashed  in  the  boy's  eyes  at  this. 


38  SUZANNA 


"The  ear  often  hears  what  the  lips  would  do  well 
not  to  repeat.  Maybe  'twere  better  I  had  run  you 
through.  Get  yourself  another  blade  and  I'll  pay 
you  in  full  for  those  words." 

And  so  they  fell  to  again,  the  ring  of  steel  against 
steel  sounding  as  they  circled.  Perez  no  longer 
stood  still,  but  forced  the  fighting  whenever  it  was 
to  his  liking.  The  brightly  polished  blades  caught 
the  rays  of  the  scorching  sun,  until  it  seemed  at 
times  that  the  men  fought  with  swords  of  fire. 

Minutes  fled  and  still  no  advantage  came  to 
either.  Awe,  and  envy  for  such  skill,  shone  on 
the  faces  of  those  who  watched.  They  had  seen 
their  leader  give  battle  times  without  number,  but 
not  one  could  remember  having  seen  him 
maneuver  as  he  did  now,  and  graceful  as  his  foot 
work  was,  it  less  than  matched  the  nimble  agility  of 
this  dancing  boy. 

The  crafty  Benito  saw  that  he  tired  the  quicker, 
and  that  the  long  battle  but  served  the  cause  of 
youth.  Hence,  he  resorted  to  banter  to  aid  him 
self. 

Ramon,  smarting  under  the  man's  thinly  veiled 
insinuations,  let  fly  an  angry  thrust  which  Perez 


A  LADY'S  NAME  IS  MENTIONED        39 

avoided  and  placed  to  his  own  advantage  by  coun 
tering  dangerously  close  to  the  boy's  throat. 

The  bandit's  eyes  must  have  mirrored  his 
thought,  because  the  boy  gritted  his  teeth  and 
cursed  himself  for  the  fool  he  had  been  in  thus 
delivering  himself.  Two  could  play  at  words  as 
well  as  one!  Even  Perez  had  to  smile  as  he  realized 
that  he  had  tossed  away  his  opening,  for  although 
he  taunted  and  abused  the  boy,  Ramon  but  grinned, 
and  in  turn,  hurled  biting  bits  of  sarcasm  and  scorn 
at  him. 

So,  in  desperation,  Perez  resorted  to  a  dangerous 
trick.  Purposely  he  made  a  wide  thrust  and 
seemed  to  lose  his  footing.  Ramon  rushed  into  the 
trap  by  lowering  his  rapier  and  setting  himself  for 
a  death  blow. 

Perez  snapped  erect  at  that,  and  his  sword 
flashed  out  with  unbelievable  swiftness.  Ramon 
divined  his  mistake  when  it  was  too  late,  but  even 
so,  Perez  saw  him  throw  his  body  away  from  the 
piercing  blade.  That  he  could  escape  entirely  was 
impossible. 

The  next  instant  came  a  faint,  sucking  sound  and 
a  spurting  stream  of  blood.  The  boy's  weapon  fell 
to  the  ground,  as  with  his  left  hand  he  reached 


40  SUZANNA 


for  his  arm  where  Perez'  blade  had  passed  clean 
through. 

A  look  of  pain  distorted  the  boy's  mouth  as 
Perez  pulled  free  his  blade.  But  with  fine  forti 
tude,  he  faced  his  conqueror  the  next  instant. 

The  bandit's  eyes  wore  a  strange  veil  as  he 
stared  at  the  youth  before  him.  "Well,"  he  said 
gruffly,  at  last,  "the  tables  are  now  turned, 
jovencito!" 

Ramon  bowed  his  head.  "I  await  your  pleas 
ure,"  he  said  bravely. 

"My  pleasure?"  the  robber  questioned.  "And 
do  you  think  to  shame  me  by  expecting  less  than 
you  so  lately  volunteered?" 

"The  incidents  are  not  at  all  the  same,"  the  boy 
averred.  "It  had  been  no  fight  at  all  had  I  finished 
you  with  your  weapon  useless  to  you;  but  now,  no 
man  can  say  but  what  we  have  both  done  our  best. 
Your  ruse  was  well  executed,  and  I  submit  with 
what  grace  I  can  to  you;  but  as  I  said  on  oath,  I 
shall  not  be  taken  prisoner  and  carried  off  so  that 
you  may  mulct  my  father." 

"Rest  easy  on  that  score,"  Perez  said  abruptly. 
"You,  Pablo,"  he  called  to  his  lieutenant,  "look  to 
the  man's  wound."  Turning  back  to  Ramon  he 


A  LADY'S  NAME  IS  MENTIONED        41 

continued:  "Your  bark  is  loud,  but  it  is  becom 
ing;  one  that  I  warm  to,  for  you  have  proved  your 
worth  in  the  only  way  that  I  set  store  by, — man  to 
man.  I  have  an  ill  name  in  this  land,  and  yet  I  hold 
that  no  man,  be  he  son  of  don  or  peon,  can  say  that 
Benito  Perez  ever  failed  to  repay  a  courtesy  with 
lesser  coin.  You  shall  go  on  your  way,  and  your 
wagon  with  you;  but  as  a  favor,  and  not  as  an  or 
der,  I'll  take  from  you  a  piece  of  goods, — no  less 
than  a  piece  of  the  finest,  either.  Silk,  or  a  yard 
age  of  some  rare  material  such  as  I  know  you  have 
purchased  for  your  most  august  mother.  I  want  it 
bright,  colorful,  of  surpassing  beauty,  because  it 
is  for  one  who  is  surpassingly  beautiful.  Will  you 
accommodate  me?" 

Pablo  had  bound  the  boy's  wound  by  now,  and 
Ramon,  his  good  nature  restored  in  part,  addressed 
himself  to  Perez  in  a  manner  fully  as  grandilo 
quent  as  that  which  the  bandit  had  employed.  "The 
choice  rests  with  you,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the 
wagon.  "The  silks  are  beneath  the  seat,  in  a  pack 
age  by  themselves." 

"A  thousand  thanks,"  Perez  grinned  impudently. 
"And  it  were  well  not  to  waste  time  in  the  choos 
ing,  for  here  comes  your  guard  at  full  tilt." 


42  SUZANNA 


He  pointed  to  the  distant  pass  from  which  Ruiz 
and  his  men  now  emerged.  Suiting  his  action  to 
his  words,  Perez  speedily  located  the  package  of 
silks  and  broke  it  open.  With  a  sweep  of  his  hand 
he  spread  them  so  that  the  different  pieces  were 
displayed.  One,  in  particular,  caught  his  fancy. 
Holding  it  aloft,  he  turned  to  Ramon.  "A  rich 
mogador!"  he  exclaimed.  "All  shot  with  gorgeous 
colors, — the  very  thing!" 

"Not  being  acquainted  with  the  lady,"  Ramon 
answered  facetiously,  "I  can  not  advise  you.  YoUj 
who  know  her  tastes,  must  decide." 

Perez  stopped  abruptly  in  the  act  of  folding  the 
brightly  colored  silk.  "That,  I  do  not,"  he  ex 
claimed.  "Nor,  I  suspect,  does  she.  Her  tempers, 
now,  that  were  a  different  matter.  For  all  her  airy 
graces,  she  is  a  peon,  and  take  this  parting  bit 
of  advice, — even  in  love,  a  peon  is  a  disappoint 
ment." 

Perez  swung  on  to  his  horse  and  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand  sped  away  in  full  cry,  his  men  in  hot 
pursuit. 

Miguel  crawled  out  from  his  hiding  place  be 
neath  the  wagon,  his  face  still  working  convul 
sively.  He  uttered  an  unintelligible  sound  as  he 


A  LADY'S  NAME  IS  MENTIONED       43 

saw  that  Perez  had  actually  gone.  Ramon  turned 
his  back  on  him,  in  a  white  rage  at  the  bandit's 
parting  shot.  The  taunt  had  been  too  thinly  veiled 
to  be  misunderstood.  There  was  but  one  to  whom 
the  man  could  refer;  and  yet,  he  had  been  the 
first  to  dignify  the  affection  existing  between 
Ramon  and  that  one  by  the  word  love.  Love? 
The  boy  smiled  at  his  own  question.  Yes,  he  ad 
mitted  to  himself,  it  well  might  be  love.  The 
The  word  peon,  however,  had  been  used  to  him  in 
this  instance  with  malicious  intent.  The  thought 
made  Ramon's  lips  curl  venomously.  Damn  the 
hypocrisy  of  a  social  system  that  allowed  even  a 
bandit  to  brand  a  girl  with  such  a  sweeping  term 
of  scorn. 

"By  the  Holy  Mother,  Suzanna!"  he  muttered 
aloud.  "That  dog  shall  pay  me  yet  for  his  loose 
tongue!" 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  HONOR  OF  THE  DONS 

ACROSS  the  San  Carmelo  hills  the  semi-tropical 
sun  bathed  the  adobe  buildings  which  comprised 
the  caserio  of  the  Rancho  de  Gutierrez.  From 
bleached  earth  and  sun-baked  caserio  there  arose 
a  haze  of  blinding  heat. 

It  was  siesta  time,  and,  no  word  of  Ramon's 
adventure  having  reached  the  rancho,  the  hacienda 
slumbered.  Except  for  a  collie  dog  wandering 
about  in  search  of  relief  from  the  noon-time  sun; 
the  occasional  flutter  of  a  chicken's  wings  as  it  bur 
rowed  deeper  into  the  cool  earth  in  the  shadow 
of  the  patio  wall;  the  drone  of  insects;  or  the 
bawling  of  a  calf  temporarily  estranged  from  its 
mother,  there  were  few  sounds  of  life. 

The  hour  dragged  on;  higher  rose  the  sun, 
reached  its  zenith,  and  then  began  swinging  west 
ward,  a  copper  colored  ball  of  fire. 

At  last,  from  across  El  Camino  Real,  which 

wound  past  the  caserio,  the  sound  of  a  bell  pene- 

44 


THE  HONOR  OF  THE  DONS  45 

trated  the  sweltering  stillness.  The  ringing  of  the 
bell  was  the  signal  that  the  afternoon's  work  was 
to  start;  the  daily  siesta  was  over. 

But  although  the  summons  of  the  bell  had  been 
sudden,  the  caserio  awakened  with  deliberation  to 
resume  the  day's  labors.  Neither  the  master,  nor 
Spanish  overseers,  appeared  to  urge  haste,  and  the 
Mexican  peons  and  Indian  laborers,  sure  of  their 
ground,  moved  slowly  to  their  appointed  tasks. 
Therefore,  a  full  half-hour  elapsed  before  the 
rancho  settled  down  to  its  work. 

Facing  the  large  casa  of  Don  Fernando  and  the 
cluster  of  small  adobes  which  were  occupied  by 
those  employed  on  the  rancho,  and  which  com 
prised  the  Caserio  de  Gutierrez,  stood  another  group 
of  buildings  belonging  to  the  hacienda  of  one, 
Sefior  Don  Diego  de  Sola. 

This  grouping  of  the  buildings  of  one  rancho  in 
close  proximity  to  those  of  another  was  quite  the 
custom  and  no  matter  of  accident.  It  afforded  a 
degree  of  protection  against  such  men  as  Perez. 
Also,  it  fostered  the  social  life  of  the  province. 

Don  Diego  and  his  daughter  were  sojourning  in 
Mexico  City  at  the  present,  but  in  their  absence  the 


46  SUZANNA 


crops  were  being  gathered  and  the  cattle  worked 
in  preparation  for  the  fall  rodeo. 

Strong  ties  bound  the  houses  of  Gutierrez  and  de 
Sola.  In  early  childhood,  young  Ramon  had  been 
betrothed  to  Chiquita  de  Sola,  now  a  proud,  beauti 
ful  woman.  The  designing  fathers  seeing  in  the 
alliance  the  creation  of  a  princely  empire  over 
which  their  heirs  should  reign. 

However  worthy  such  plans,  it  is  all  too  true  thai 
they  often  go  amiss.  Fear  of  such  a  contretemps 
now  filled  the  heart  of  Don  Fernando. 

Presently,  from  within  the  casa,  there  emerged 
three  persons — two  gentlemen  and  a  lady — who 
seated  themselves  leisurely  upon  the  shaded  por 
tico. 

The  dominating  figure  of  the  trio  was  Don 
Fernando  Gutierrez,  tall,  somewhat  portly,  gray- 
haired  and  mustached,  epitomizing  the  true  Cas- 
tilian  who  ruled  not  only  wisely,  but  well,  over 
California  prior  and  even  subsequent  to  the  Mexi 
can  war  of  1845. 

With  characteristic  Castillian  courtesy,  he 
attended  the  feminine  member  of  the  party — his 
beautiful,  patrician  wife,  the  Dona  Luz, — mean- 


THE  HONOR  OF  THE  DONS  47 

while  the  other  gentleman  stood  at  respectful  at 
tention. 

All  three  were  properly,  if  somewhat  overly-at 
tired,  in  the  dress  of  the  period.  Dona  Luz's  gown 
was  of  silk,  with  short  sleeves  and  loose  waist. 
From  beneath  the  hem  of  her  skirt  peeped  the  tips 
of  her  diminutive  red  slippers.  In  her  ears  were 
jet-black  pendants.  Her  black,  gray-streaked  hair 
was  done  high  on  top  of  her  head  and  surmounted 
by  a  great  mother-of-pearl  comb.  Over  her  head 
was  drawn  a  large,  greenish-colored  mantilla  of 
filmy  lace. 

Dona  Luz  looked  toward  her  husband  expect 
antly,  for  this  meeting  was  in  the  nature  of  a  con 
ference  bearing  on  no  less  a  topic  than  her  son's 
conduct. 

Because  of  the  occasion,  Don  Fernando  had 
dressed  elaborately,  and  his  guest  was  hardly  less 
resplendent.  Each  was  attired  in  a  fine  linen  shirt, 
rich  with  a  profusion  of  lace  and  embroidery. 
The  Senor  Gutierrez's  heavy  silk  jacket  of  deepest 
maroon,  amply  decorated  with  "frogs"  and  buttons, 
was  unbuttoned,  a  compromise  with  the  weather. 
His  guest  wore  a  jacket  also,  of  lustrous  brown 
equally  well  decorated.  Their  pantaloons  of  black 


48  SUZANNA 


velvet,  decorated  with  rows  of  vermilion  buttons, 
harmonizing  well  with  the  green  sash  about  the 
waist,  left  a  lot  to  be  desired  on  this  torrid  day. 
Under  the  pantaloons,  and  visible  through  the  knee- 
length  slit,  were  boots  of  untanned  deer-skin. 

Satisfied  as  to  the  comfort  of  his  wife,  Don 
Fernando  waved  his  guest  to  a  chair,  and  then 
seated  himself.  Without  turning,  he  called  in 
husky  tones,  "Jose!"  Almost  immediately  a 
Mexican  771020,  or  houseboy,  appeared  in  the  area- 
way. 

"Aguardiente — brandy,"  commanded  the  don 
briefly. 

"Si,  sefior"  came  the  soft  reply,  and  the  boy 
disappeared  across  the  patio. 

This  patio  was  a  rectangular  court  surrounded 
on  three  sides  by  verandas  upon  which  opened  the 
various  rooms  that  composed  the  cask.  Across 
the  southern  end  stretched  a  high  wall.  In  the 
center  of  it  was  an  arched  door-way  through  which 
one  passed  from  the  don's  patio  to  that  of  the 
servants. 

This  patio  was  a  veritable  garden  of  beautiful 
flowers  and  plants, — roses,  geraniums,  oleanders 
and  flowering  cactus.  An  acacia  tree,  in  full  bloom, 


THE  HONOR  OF  THE  DONS  49 

adorned  one  corner,  while  in  another  was  an  arbor 
of  bougainvilla.  Caressing  each  pillar  that  sup 
ported  the  tile-roofed  veranda  were  vines  of  one 
description  or  another.  In  the  center  of  the  patio 
was  a  well,  fully  fifteen  feet  in  diameter,  which 
supplied  the  house  with  water. 

Several  minutes  passed  before  the  servant  re 
turned  with  the  brandy.  Meanwhile,  the  three  sat 
silent,  gazing  out  across  the  garden  patio  and  to  the 
servants'  patio  beyond. 

Worry  wreathed  the  face  of  the  Senor  Gutierrez. 
Nervously,  he  gnawed  the  ends  of  his  bristling 
gray  mustache.  Dona  Luz  frowned  as  she  saw  her 
lord's  perturbation.  Well  enough  she  knew  that 
he  would  not  speak  until  it  so  pleased  him.  Her 
son's  delayed  arrival  also  wore  on  her.  Turning 
away,  she  sent  her  eyes  across  the  fields  to  where 
the  Santa  Cruz  mountains  lay  basking  in  the  sun. 
For  all  their  brown,  barren,  forbidding  appearance, 
she  loved  them.  Raised,  as  she  had  been,  in  more 
urban  surroundings  than  rural  California  could 
boast,  this  queenly  woman  had  missed  those 
niceties  of  life  which  would  have  been  hers  in  a 
more  sheltered  land.  Long  since,  she  had  turned 
to  her  flowers  and  those  distant,  friendly  hills; 


50  SUZANNA 


and  found  that  California  could  win  her  smiles 
as  well  as  ancient  Seville. 

Jose  soon  reappeared  with  goblets,  brandy  and 
cigars — huge,  cylindrical,  black.  He  served  with 
the  sureness  and  precision  of  a  trained  servant,  and 
disappeared. 

The  don  and  his  guest  lighted  their  cigars,  then 
joined  the  dona  in  sipping  from  the  old,  hammered- 
silver  goblets  the  deliciously  refreshing  liqueur. 

For  several  more  minutes  the  don  looked  re 
flectively  across  the  patio,  puffed  at  his  cigar,  and 
toyed  with  his  goblet.  Then  turning  to  his  visi 
tor,  who  was  eyeing  him  curiously,  he  said: 

"Alvarez,  you  are  my  attorney;  likewise,  you  are 
my  friend.  I  have  sent  for  you  to  advise  me." 

Alvarez  bowed  his  head.  The  don  thought  for  a 
moment,  then  resumed: 

"It  is  about  Ramon." 

Alvarez — the  boy  Miguel's  father — feigned  his 
surprise.  He  had  been  quite  aware  of  the  sub 
ject  to  be  discussed,  but  he  was  a  successful  law 
yer;  and  lawyers  even  in  that  day  found  it  passing 
wise  to  dissemble  at  times.  He  largely  divided  his 
time  between  Monterey  and  the  hacienda,  so  it  fol- 


THE  HONOR  OF  THE  DONS  51 

lowed  that  he  had  an  ear  to  the  ground  concerning 
what  went  on  in  the  household  of  Don  Fernando. 

"Your  manner,  more  than  your  .words,  alarms 
me,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  hope  there  is  nothing  of 
great  moment  involved  in  what  you  have  to  say." 

"I  am  sorry,"  Senor  Gutierrez  replied,  "but  it  is 
of  the  utmost  concern  to  my  wife  and  me.  There 
is  no  need  for  me  to  tell  you  how  I  regard  mixed 
marriages,  or  the  store  I  set  by  my  lineage.  I 
thought  that  I  had  impounded  my  tastes  and  de 
sires  in  my  son.  Lately,  however,  I  have  had  rea 
sons  enough  to  doubt  the  truth  of  that.  There  has 
even  been  talk  about  the  boy,  and  public  gossip 
needs  some  foundation  of  fact  to  survive.  I  do 
not  know  if  in  your  visits  here  you  have  noticed 
the  daughter  of  Ruiz,  the  peon." 

"But,  of  course,"  Alvarez  stated,  "I  remember 
her  as  a  child  about  the  hacienda." 

"I  would  she  had  remained  a  child,"  Dona  Luz 
said  pointedly. 

"You  echo  my  own  wish,"  Don  Fernando  went 
on.  "As  a  child,  Suzanna  was  an  unusual  little 
creature,  considering  her  parentage.  When  Ruiz' 
wife  died,  we  naturally  took  a  greater  interest  in 
her.  It  was  a  fatal  mistake.  The  situation  that  we 


52  SUZANNA 


face  now  is  of  our  own  making.  The  girl  has  de 
veloped  into  a  beautiful  woman,  and  I'll  own,  not 
without  a  certain  sense  of  poise  and  wisdom.  But 
she  is  a  peon.  Ramon  is  man  grown,  too.  The 
intimacy  that  existed  between  them  as  children  was 
well  enough;  but  we  cannot  tolerate  it  now. 
People  are  coupling  their  names  together.  I  know 
my  boy's  spirit,  and  I  am  at  a  loss  what  to  do.  A 
heavy  hand  is  the  last  thing  I  want  to  use." 

"You  don't  mean  that  this  affair  has  progressed 
to  the  point  of  love?"  Alvarez  asked. 

"Not  yet.  But  that  it  will,  is  most  certain.  Their 
fondness  for  each  other  has  changed  gradually  from 
impersonal  friendship  and  good-fellowship  to  per 
sonal  regard ;  although  I  am  sure  that  neither  real 
izes  that  love  exists.  I  should  have  sent  the  girl 
away  long  since.  They  have  never  been  sepa 
rated,  except  for  the  two  years  the  boy  spent  in 
Spain.  I  used  to  laugh  to  see  him  trundling  her 
about  the  hacienda."  The  don  slapped  his  knee 
and  shook  his  head.  "It's  no  laughing  matter  to 
day,"  he  finished  mournfully. 

A  period  of  silence  followed.  Alvarez'  face 
wore  a  well-feigned  frown.  Don  Fernando 
glanced  at  him  sharply  as  he  sat  without  replying  or 


THE  HONOR  OF  THE  DONS  53 

offering  suggestion.  "You  know  that  I  cannot 
talk  to  Suzanna,"  the  father  argued.  "To  do  so 
would  be  but  to  make  her  aware  of  the  very  thing 
I  fear.  The  same  thought  holds  good  with  the  boy. 
You  have  got  to  suggest  something,  Alvarez." 

"It's  an  awkward  situation,"  the  attorney  an 
swered.  "You  are  sure  you  do  not  exaggerate  it?" 

"I  suppose  we  do,"  Dona  Luz  observed  quietly. 
"But,  we  must  not  forget  to  mention  that  Ramon 
is  betrothed  to  the  daughter  of  Don  Diego.  The 
girl  and  her  father  are  expected  home  shortly. 
Ramon  is  a  dutiful  son ;  he  knows  that  he  is  pledged 
to  wed  the  daughter  of  our  dear  friend  and  neigh 
bor.  I  am  sure  that  he  has  some  affection  for  Chi- 
quita,  and  that  he  recognizes  the  engagement  exist 
ing  between  them  these  many  years.  When  the 
time  arrives  for  the  ceremony,  he  may  forget  Su 
zanna  entirely  for  one  who  is  more  beautiful  and 
his  equal  in  culture  and  blood.  Remember,  too, 
Fernando,"  she  went  on,  turning  to  her  husband, 
"that  Ramon  has  not  seen  Chiquita  in  nearly  two 
years.  The  girl  must  have  improved  wonderfully, 
and  when  she  comes  back  from  the  south  with  the 
glamour  of  the  capital  fresh  upon  her  she  may 
sweep  the  boy  off  his  feet." 


54  SUZANNA 


Don  Fernando  seemed  little  impressed  by  these 
words. 

"You  know,"  the  Dona  continued,  "that  in  Chi- 
quita's  absence  Suzanna  has  been  the  only  person 
able  girl  the  boy  has  come  in  contact  with  day 
after  day." 

"Excepting  yourself,  my  sweetheart,"  the  don 
complimented  her. 

"Ah,  thou  flatterer,"  the  senora  murmured,  but 
well  pleased  nevertheless.  "But  really,  I  think  we 
worry  too  much." 

"I  cannot  help  worrying,"  confessed  the  don, 
once  again  serious.  "Something  here" — placing 
his  hand  over  his  heart — "tells  me  that  there  are 
difficulties  ahead." 

"There  is  an  old  Spanish  proverb,  querido"  the 
dona  replied,  "which  is,  in  effect,  'wind,  women 
and  fortune  soon  change.'  You  do  not  know  Su- 
zanna's  feelings,  and  even  though  they  are  more 
than  impersonal  with  respect  to  our  Ramon,  some 
dashing  vaquero  may  come  along  and  woo  and  win 
her  in  a  day." 

"Ah,  would  that  I  were  so  optimistic!"  the  don 
cried  feelingly. 

"Pardon,  sefior,"  murmured  the  attorney,  inject- 


THE  HONOR  OF  THE  DONS  55 

ing  his  suave  presence  into  the  conversation.  "I 
feel  as  the  sefiora  feels:  that  when  the  time  for 
the  wedding  arrives  Don  Ramon  will  not  only  be 
ready  to  respect  your  wishes  that  he  marry  Don 
Diego's  only  child,  but  eager  to.  However,  to 
make  certain  that  Suzanna  will  in  no  wise  inter 
fere  with  the  marriage,  I  suggest  that  you  send 
her  away  for  a  few  years." 

"That  is  impossible,"  Senor  Gutierrez  declared. 

<6T 9? 

"Ah,  but  it  is  not,  senor,"  Alvarez  interrupted 
quickly.  "She  is  personable,  you  say?  And  pos 
sessed  of  intelligence?  Very  well, — then  why  not 
send  her  to  the  Mission  at  San  Luis  Bautista,  and 
place  her  under  the  care  of  the  good  Padre  Altado. 
Under  his  merciful  and  guiding  hand,  Suzanna  can 
receive  that  which  not  one  out  of  ten  thousand  peons 
have — an  education. 

"Two  years  must  necessarily  elapse  before  she 
returns.  Meanwhile,  Don  Ramon  will  have  wed, 
and — who  knows? — have  been  blessed  with  a  son 
and  heir  to  the  vast  estates  of  Gutierrez  and  De 
Sola,  which  naturally  are  joined  by  the  wedding." 

"Just  the  thing,  Alvarez,"  Don  Fernando  ex 
claimed  excitedly.  "The  girl  shall  leave  within 


56  SUZANNA 


the  week.  But  how  shall  I  inform  her  that  she  is 
going,  and  the  reason  for  it?" 

"Wait  for  a  propitious  moment,  my  friend," 
Alvarez  warned,  "then,  as  though  rewarding  her  for 
some  service,  tell  her.  Surely  Ramon  will  not  ob 
ject.  If  he  is  anticipating  marriage  with  her,  then 
he  would  have  a  woman  of  some  culture  and  re 
finement — something  she  is  not  now.  Her  mental 
education  is  of  small  moment:  so  few  women  of 
to-day — be  they  daughters  of  dons  or  of  peons — 
are  interested  in  aught  else  than  to  be  able  to  look 
their  prettiest,  to  act  the  coquette  at  all  times,  or  to 
out-step  their  sisters  when  dancing  the  jota. 
Therefore,  you  can  impress  the  fact  upon  both 
Ramon  and  Suzanna  that  because  of  her  beauty 
and  intelligence,  she  is  to  be  given  an  opportunity 
to  compete  with  her  more  fortunate  sisters.  It  will 
be  a  tactful  move,  and  one  that  will  not  commit 
you  in  any  direction." 

"Capital!"  Ramon's  father  cried  enthusiasti 
cally.  "You  are  a  very  wise  lawyer,  my  Alvarez. 
Suzanna  shall  go  to  San  Luis  Bautista!" 

"But  Ramon,"  Alvarez  warned,  " — I  should  say 
nothing  to  him  about  this  matter  until  you  are 
ready  to  announce  your  decision  to  Suzanna. 


THE  HONOR  OF  THE  DONS  57 

Then,  if  the  idea  does  not  please  him,  he  will  have 
no  time  to  plan  a  counter  move." 

"Ramon  is  an  obedient  son,"  Dona  Luz  hurriedly 
assured  the  lawyer.  "He  will  not  question  his 
father's  authority." 

"No, — of  course  not,"  the  attorney  answered 
with  a  rather  forced  smile.  "But  the  boy  does 
his  own  thinking.  It  is  the  way  of  our  young  men. 
Ramon  had  no  hand  in  the  Republican  coup  that 
sent  Victoria  out  of  the  state;  but  from  what  Miguel 
tells  me,  I  can  see  that  the  boy  is  Republican;  and 
it  is  the  doctrine  of  that  element  to  tear  down  all 
of  our  old  institutions." 

"And  small  wonder,"  Don  Fernando  exclaimed. 
"If  my  son  is  a  Republican  it  is  because  Mexico 
administers  things  so  badly,  and  not  because  he 
has  turned  against  the  traditions  we  brought  here 
from  Spain.  He  is  nearer  right  in  his  beliefs  than 
I  would  care  to  have  him  suspect.  But  it  matters 
not,  Alvarez.  He  shall  not  be  told  until  I  am 
ready  to  speak  to  the  girl.  When  I  announce 
myself,  she  will  do  as  I  order." 


CHAPTER  IV 

SUZANNA  THE  PEON 

As  they  talked,  a  slip  of  a  girl, — small-limbed, 
small-waisted ;  but  full  breasted  and  muscular  for 
all  her  size,  rode  across  the  servants'  patio.  Even 
though  she  sat  astride  a  sleepy-eyed,  flea-bitten 
burro,  her  attire  the  ragged  clothes  of  a  peon  boy, 
she  was  beautiful. 

From  the  crown  of  her  head — partially  hidden 
from  view  by  a  gaudy  bandanna  handkerchief — to 
the  soles  of  her  moccasin-clad  feet  she  was  bizarre, 
unusual.  Her  raven-black  curls  framing  a  face  so 
entrancing  that  one  could  only  wonder  at  the  beauty 
of  it.  It  was  small,  regular,  perfectly  formed,  as 
was  her  body,  which  was  as  lithe  as  a  boy's. 

The  suns  of  California  had  tanned  her  skin  a 
dark,  olive-bronze.  In  colorful  contrast  were  her 
lips,  as  red  as  pomegranates.  But  what  held  one 
longest  were  her  eyes, — large,  dark,  lustrous  and 
filled  with  undimmed  fire. 

Don  Fernando  stiffened  as  he  caught  sight  of 

58 


SUZANNA  THE  PEON  59 

her.  The  senora  and  Alvarez,  following  his  eyes, 
saw  her  a  moment  later.  The  attorney  adjusted 
his  glasses  rather  hurriedly  after  his  first  look 
at  the  girl. 

"A  beauty,  if  ever  there  was  one,"  he  admit 
ted.  "Peon  or  not,  she  is  a  flower." 

"And  accordingly — dangerous,"  Guiterrez  de 
clared.  "And  those  clothes — the  girl  seems  to 
prefer  them  to  better  garments.  To  my  knowl 
edge,  she  is  continually  receiving  presents  of  one 
sort  or  another.  Every  vaquero  on  the  place  has 
made  eyes  at  her;  but  she  will  have  none  of  them. 
And  as  for  independence,  humph!  She  is  stealing 
away  right  now  for  the  afternoon.  She  knows  that 
Ruiz  is  not  here  to  forbid  it." 

As  they  watched  her,  Suzanna  rode  out  of  sight, 
blissfully  unconscious  that  she  was  the  subject  of 
conversation  of  the  trio  seated  upon  the  veranda. 
In  her  hands  she  held  a  crude  fishing  rod.  Using 
it  as  a  gad,  she  urged  her  burro  toward  the  distant 
hills  where  the  placid  San  Carmelo  River  wound 
along  between  moss  covered  banks.  She  hummed 
a  song  as  she  thumped  the  burro, — a  bit  of  an 
endless  sentimental  strain: 


60  SUZANNA 


"Te  amo,  si,  te  amo  de  veras; 
No  puedo  mas  ocultarlo; 
Para  que  mi  bien  callarlo 
Si  conociendolo  estas" 

Allowing  for  the  loss  of  rhythm  and  idiom 
which  translation  imposes,  Suzanna's  song  said: 

"I  love  you,  yes,  I  love  you  truly; 
No  longer  can  I  hold  my  tongue, 
That  I  may  well  conceal  my  passion, 
For  you  already  guess  my  love." 

It  is  doubtful,  though,  if  the  song  conjured  in 
her  brain  any  picture  of  dashing  caballero  upon 
his  knees  before  her  repeating  those  identical 
words.  Suzanna's  dominating  thought,  at  present, 
being  to  put  as  much  distance  between  herself  and 
the  Caserio  de  Gutierrez  as  she  possibly  could,  and 
during  the  shortest  space  of  time,  for  intuitively, 
and  by  past  performances,  too,  Suzanna  sensed 
work  should  her  father  catch  sight  of  her.  That 
the  next  half -hour  would  find  him  back  at  the 
hacienda  she  did  not  doubt. 

There  was  work  in  plenty  to  be  done  this  after 
noon;  but  grinding  grain,  carrying  water,  cooking 
and  baking  had  long  since  palled  on  her.  Let  the 
old  crones,  who  had  a  heart  for  such  things,  bestir 
themselves !  On  account  of  her  dictatorial  airs  they 


SUZANNA  THE  PEON 61 

called  her  a  no-good,  anyway.  It  mattered  but 
little  to  the  girl.  The  men  about  the  raneho  paid 
her  homage  of  an  ardor  only  limited  by  her  own 
pleasure,  and  Suzanna,  for  all  her  lack  of  educa 
tion  and  culture,  had  long  since  digested  the  fact 
that  it  was  the  men  who  mattered. 

Suzanna  had  often  stolen  away  for  an  afternoon 
along  the  San  Carmelo,  and  once  she  was  within 
the  protecting  hills  which  bordered  the  stream,  she 
allowed  her  burro  to  make  his  own  pace.  It  was 
an  afternoon  well  suited  for  day  dreaming,  and  she 
had  an  endless  number  of  air-castles  to  build. 

A  week  gone  she  had  met  a  stranger  in  these  very 
hills, — a  knightly  man,  for  all  that  he  had  proven 
overly  bold.  Suzanna  had  scorned  him,  but  the 
thought  that  she  might  meet  him  again  in 
truded  on  her  revery  more  than  once  as  she  rode 
along. 

Pico,  her  burro,  was  in  perfect  accord  with  the 
lazy  day,  and  he  dragged  himself  and  his 
burden  over  the  hot  trail.  Eventually,  however, 
he  brought  Suzanna  to  the  river's  edge,  where  he 
stood  lackadaisically  switching  his  tail.  Suzanna 
prodded  him,  but  he  refused  to  move.  With  dark- 


62  SUZANNA 


ening  eyes,  she  brought  her  pole  into  play.  Pico 
only  flicked  an  indifferent  ear  in  answer. 

Where  the  burro  had  stopped,  it  was  intolerably 
hot.  Across  the  river  was  a  cool,  shady,  moss- 
covered  bank,  agreeable  to  the  eye  and  inviting 
to  the  body.  Remained  but  to  ford  the  stream  to 
attain  it.  The  water  was  delightfully  cool  and  the 
fording  shallow;  but  Pico  had  no  liking  for  it. 

The  girl's  temper  rose  as  she  sought  to  drive  the 
stubborn  beast  across.  "Madre  de  Dios,  Pico,"  she 
stormed,  "I'll  put  this  rod  into  your  vitals  if  you 
don't  make  haste." 

Pico  silently  dared  her  to  do  her  worst.  Su- 
zanna  found  his  hide  an  excellent  barrier  against 
her  efforts.  Ten  minutes  must  have  elapsed  as 
the  struggle  went  on.  Suddenly  the  roar  of  a  gun 
in  the  burro's  immediate  rear  broke  the  stillness 
of  the  river  bottom.  Pico  bounded  for  the  opposite 
bank  in  punishing  leaps,  Suzanna  clinging  to  him 
as  best  she  could. 

A  laugh,  and  the  sound  of  someone  fording  the 
stream,  reached  her  as  she  slipped  from  the  bur 
ro's  back.  With  pounding  heart  and  eyes  wide 
with  fear  she  turned  to  protect  herself.  Before 


SUZANNA  THE  PEON  63 

her,  hat  in  hand  as  he  bowed  to  the  ground,  stood 
the  stranger  whom  she  had  met  before,  Benito 
Perez! 

"Buenas  tardes,  querida  mia"  he  murmured  unc- 
tiously.  "You  are  a  ravishing  surprise  for  so  hot 
a  day." 


CHAPTER  V 

"DOES  THE  NAME  MATTER?'* 

SUZANNA'S  eyes  flashed  as  she  saw  who  addressed 
her,  even  though  she  did  not  by  any  chance  sus 
pect  him  to  be  the  outlaw  Perez.  As  has  been  said, 
the  man  had  a  way  with  him  which  caught  the 
fancy.  Suzanna  had  not  escaped  it,  neither  had  she 
failed  to  recognize  the  unbroken  spirit  of  him.  She 
had  trimmed  her  sails  accordingly,  for,  to  a  cer 
tainty,  the  man  was  little  likely  to  pay  heed  once 
he  was  out  of  hand. 

Seeing  in  him  but  an  over-ripe  caballero,  Su 
zanna  felt  no  great  fear  at  his  discovery  of  her 
so  far  from  the  caserio.  The  manner  of  his  ap 
proach  and  his  terms  of  endearment  deserved  a 
rebuke  however,  and  she  was  not  slow  in  acquaint 
ing  him  with  as  much. 

"  'Querida  mia?9 *  she  echoed  sarcastically. 
"Since  when?  Do  you  lie  in  hiding  like  a  wolf, 
ready  to  pounce  upon  me  the  minute  I  stir  from 
the  caserio?  Answer  me!"  she  snapped.  "You 

are  more  presumptuous  than  ever." 

64 


"DOES  THE  NAME  MATTER?"         65 

Perez  gazed  at  her  good-naturedly,  if  impu 
dently,  delighting  in  her  show  of  temper. 

"Come  little  one,"  he  said  chidingly,  "why  scold 
me  for  being  presumptuous  when  it  is  the  very 
quality  a  woman  most  admires  in  a  man?  You 
would  do  well  not  to  turn  those  flashing  eyes  on  me, 
for  they  but  match  your  lips,  and  steal  away  my 


senses." 


"Pretty  words,"  Suzanna  answered  with  fine  con 
tempt.  "I  shall  know  how  you  found  me  here." 

"That's  easily  told,"  Perez  grinned;  "from  the 
top  of  that  brown  hill  in  back  of  us.  I  had  but 
stopped  in  the  shade  of  those  live-oaks  to  breathe 
my  horse  when  I  caught  sight  of  you.  But  those 
clothes, — they  are  no  fit  garb  for  one  of  your 
surpassing  beauty." 

"Madre  de  Dios!"  Suzanna  exclaimed.  "And 
now  you  are  to  tell  me  what  I  shall  wear,  eh?" 
Stepping  close  to  Perez,  she  snapped  her  fingers 
within  an  inch  of  his  face.  "Suppose  you  go  back 
to  your  hill  and  your  own  business,"  she  cried.  "I 
have  busybodies  enough  watching  me  already." 

"Oh,  you  are  adorable  when  you  frown,"  Perez 
whispered.  "Come,  see  what  I  have  here  for  you, 
— a  marvelous  silk,  a  true  mogador!  I — ah — ac- 


66  SUZANNA 


quired  it  but  to-day.     Can  you  resist  it,  Suzanna?" 

Suzanna's  frown  disappeared  as  she  regarded 
the  silk  held  so  temptingly  in  the  bandit's  hands. 
She  dropped  her  head  and  glanced  up  coquettishly 
at  Perez.  The  man's  eyes  held  hers  as  a  smile 
parted  her  lips. 

"It's  yours,  nina  mia"  he  said  softly.  "I  asked 
the  gentleman  from  whom  I  secured  it  for  some 
thing  of  surpassing  beauty  because  it  was  for  one 
I  held  surpassingly  fair.  The  silk  is  beautiful,  but 
not  more  so  than  you." 

Suzanna  reached  out  her  hands  and  ran  her  fin 
gers  over  the  gay  mogador.  As  she  did,  Perez 
tossed  the  piece  of  goods  into  her  arms  and  caught 
her  around  the  waist. 

"Come,"  he  murmured  passionately,  "is  there 
no  pay  for  poor  me?" 

Suzanna  sunk  her  nails  into  his  flesh  as  he  held 
his  mouth  so  provokingly  close  to  hers.  "So,  that's 
the  way  you  give,  eh?"  she  screamed.  "Before  the 
gift  is  cold  you  are  asking  for  pay!" 

"Truly  it  is  a  coarse  word,  nina  mia"  Perez 
said  with  a  great  show  of  penitence.  "Let's  call 
it  reward ;  and  since  you  withhold  it,  poor  me  must 
collect  for  himself." 


"DOES  THE  NAME  MATTER?"         67 

Suzanna  struggled  and  clawed,  but  the  robber 
chief  crushed  her  in  his  arms  and  planted  a  kiss 
upon  her  lips. 

"Hast  no  one  told  you  that  stolen  fruit  is  sweet 
est?"  he  asked  boldly. 

"Yes;  but  even  the  sweetest  fruit  turns  sour!" 
Suzanna  cried  menacingly.  "Do  you  feel  that  gun 
boring  into  your  thick  skin,  sefior?"  The  fact  that 
Perez'  smile  froze  upon  his  lips  was  proof  enough 
that  he  did.  "It  is  your  own  pistol,"  she  warned. 
"You  unhand  me  or  we'll  see  how  well  it  shoots!" 

He  continued  to  hold  her  for  a  second,  daring 
her  to  fire,  and  then,  with  courtly  air  he  released 
her.  "You  make  me  love  you,  little  one,"  he 
murmured,  as  he  stepped  back.  "I'll  treasure 
those  scratches  you  have  put  upon  my  face." 

"You  make  great  haste  with  your  love,  don't 
you?"  Suzanna  said  bitingly.  "You  must  have 
great  success  with  it." 

"No  measure  but  what  I'd  trade  for  a  smile  from 
you." 

"The  words  fly  too  easily  to  your  lips,"  Suzan 
na  taunted  him.  "I've  not  even  the  name  of  you 
yet." 

"And  does  the  name  matter?"  Perez  asked  seri- 


68  SUZANNA 


ously.  "Is  it  not  enough  that  you  see  I  am  no 
belted  friar?  I  am  a  free-man — the  while,  at 
least — is  not  that  enough  for  you,  pretty  one?" 

"Well  you  know  that  it  is  not,"  Suzanna  an 
swered  coldly.  "And  now  that  I  see  it  is  by  design 
and  not  accident  that  you  withhold  it,  I  am  doubly 
warned.  When  free-man  bows  his  head  to  peon  girl 
the  reason  is  not  far  to  seek.  Take  your  precious 
silk,  and  begone." 

Perez  shook  his  head  as  she  held  out  his  gift. 

"Very  well,"  Suzana  exclaimed  angrily.  "Since 
you  will  have  it  no  other  way,  take  it  from  the 
ground!"  And  she  tossed  the  goods  at  his  feet. 

"There  are  other  pieces,  querida,  even  finer  than 
that  one,  which  I  shall  bring  to  you,"  he  said  evenly. 
"Another  time  I  shall  please  you  better." 

Perez  had  dropped  his  boasting  tone,  and  as  he 
turned  to  his  horse  and  mounted,  Suzanna  sighed 
uneasily.  This  man  understood  the  art  of  love! 
She  called  to  him  as  he  reached  the  middle  of  the 
stream.  Perez  wheeled  his  horse  at  sound  of  her 
voice. 

"Your  pistol,  senor,"  Suzanna  cried.  With  a 
muscular  toss  she  hurled  it  through  the  air  to  him. 


"DOES  THE  NAME  MATTER?"         69 

Perez  caught  it  deftly,  and  bowing,  rode  off  with 
out  backward  glance. 

The  man  had  his  audience,  as  he  half-suspected. 
Suzanna  had  not  been  prepared  for  his  manner  of 
leave-taking,  and  her  eyes  followed  him  as  he  rode 
away.  Even  when  he  was  well  across  the  stream, 
she  believed  that  he  would  turn  back,  for  a  word 
at  least.  In  this  she  was  disappointed,  for  Perez 
surmised  her  thought,  and  he  was  well  enough 
versed  in  the  ways  of  women  to  know  that  the  un 
usual  always  succeeds  with  them. 

Suzanna  drew  a  deep  breath  as  he  passed  out 
of  sight.  "Madre  de  Dios"  she  murmured,  "There 
goes  a  real  caballero!" 

Suzanna  stood  where  she  was  for  a  spell,  con 
templating  the  fact  that  life  along  the  San  Carmelo 
River  was  vastly  more  interesting  than  it  was  at  the 
Rancho  de  Gutierrez.  The  man  had  taken  her 
breath  away,  a  sensation  hard  work  had  never  pro 
duced. 

As  the  minutes  passed,  and  she  realized  that  the 
stranger  was  not  coming  back,  she  fell  to  her  knees, 
and  picking  up  the  mogador,  brushed  away  the 
sand  which  clung  to  it.  And  then,  with  a  purely 


70  SUZANNA 


feminine  gesture,  she  held  it  up  to  her  waist  to  get 
the  effect  of  it. 

"Bless  the  saints,"  she  whispered  to  herself, 
"there  cannot  be  anything  more  beautiful.  And 
yet,  he  talks  of  even  finer  things.  Truly,  the  man 
who  selected  this  was  no  fool.  He  must  have 
looked  at  many  before  he  made  his  choice." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  SURPRISING  HISTORY  OF  A  PIECE  OF  SILK 

SUZANNA'S  thoughts  were  far  from  fishing  as  she 
stretched  her  length  upon  the  moss-covered  bank 
beside  the  sluggish  San  Cannelo.  As  she  lay  there, 
day-dreaming,  a  crackling  of  brush  behind  her 
caused  her  to  sit  up  in  some  agitation.  Her  first 
thought  was  that  Perez  was  returning.  Quickly 
hiding  the  silk,  she  sat  stiffly  and  waited.  Imagine 
her  surprise,  then,  when  a  six  months'  old  cinnamon 
cub  broke  from  cover  almost  at  her  feet. 

The  bear  was  not  less  frightened  than  she. 
Turning  tail,  he  dashed  back  into  the  manzanita 
which  bordered  the  river. 

Suzanna's  fear  soon  left  her,  and  she  became 
possessed  of  a  mad  desire  to  own  that  little  cub. 
A  large  field  of  wheat  lay  beyond  the  narrow  strip 
of  underbrush,  and  she  knew  if  she  could  drive  the 
cub  into  it,  that  he  would  have  little  chance  of  get 
ting  away.  Seizing  Pico's  lead  rope,  and  fashion- 

71 


72  SUZANNA 


ing  it  into  a  crude  lariat,  she  dashed  after  the 
fleeing  bear. 

The  cub  made  slower  progress  through  the  chap 
arral  than  did  the  girl.  The  noise  of  her  coming, 
and  her  cries  of  pain  as  briars  and  thorns  tore  her 
skin,  cost  the  bear  his  wits,  and  abandoning  his  na 
tive  caution  he  bounded  into  the  wheat  field.  The 
grain  had  been  harvested  some  weeks  ago,  and  the 
new  shoots  were  only  up  some  foot  and  a  half. 

Suzanna  caught  sight  of  the  bear  as  soon  as  she 
was  out  of  the  brush,  and  with  a  wild  halloo  she 
set  after  him. 

Thanks  to  her  masculine  attire,  she  soon  man 
aged  to  draw  up  on  the  cub.  Judging  herself  close 
enough  to  slip  the  noose  over  his  head,  she  sailed 
it  through  the  air.  The  treacherous  ground  upset 
her,  and  she  sprawled  her  length.  The  force  with 
which  she  landed  rung  a  grunt  from  her  lips. 

The  sound  was  a  new  one  to  the  cub's  ears,  and 
his  curiosity  not  to  be  denied,  he  turned,  impu 
dently,  and  surveyed  her.  When  Suzanna  sat  up 
the  bear  was  still  there,  resting  on  his  haunches. 

The  girl  grinned  at  him  as  she  rubbed  her  tor 
tured  body.  "So,  my  fine  fellow,"  she  cried,  "you 
sit  and  laugh  at  me,  eh?  You  wait!" 


THE  HISTORY  OF  A  PIECE  OF  SILK    73 

Cautiously  regaining  her  rope  and  coiling  it, 
she  sprang  toward  him,  but  the  bear  was  not  caught 
unaware.  With  a  bound,  he  was  off  for  the  other 
end  of  the  field.  The  King's  Highway  passed  there, 
and  the  cub,  hesitating  to  cross  where  there  was  no 
cover  at  all,  circled  back  toward  a  huge  straw  stack 
fairly  in  line  with  the  girl. 

A  game  of  tag  began  as  they  dashed  round  and 
round  the  stack.  Suzanna's  dog  had  joined  the 
pair  and  the  chase.  Hearing  a  noise  behind  her, 
the  girl  felt  that  the  bear  had  started  to  chase  her, 
and  without  stopping  to  reason,  ran  for  an  old  cy 
press  tree,  which  stood  beside  the  road,  and  took 
refuge  in  it. 

The  cub,  however,  had  tired  of  the  game  some 
minutes  before  and  had  taken  refuge  in  the  same 
tree.  At  the  moment  that  Suzanna  was  scrambling 
up,  the  cub  was  perched  on  a  limb  above  her  calmly 
surveying  the  scene. 

Suzanna,  having  reached  the  first  limb,  backed 
out  on  it  a  few  feet  and  then  came  to  a  sudden  halt. 
Something  was  pressing  against  her  back!  Ex 
actly  what  it  was,  she  couldn't  have  told,  but  she 
knew  it  was  alive!  Casting  a  backward  glance 
across  her  shoulder,  she  saw  the  bear.  With  a 


74  SUZANNA 


scream,  she  began  moving  out  upon  the  limb.  For 
now,  that  she  was  within  a  hair's  breadth  of  it,  she 
became  the  quarry,  and  not  the  cub.  Roping  a  bear 
was  one  thing;  capturing  it  with  bare  hands  while 
astride  the  limb  of  a  tree,  fifteen  feet  above  the 
ground,  was  something  else  again.  Suzanna  de 
cided  to  continue  retreating — and  did — onto  an 
other  limb  on  the  other  side  of  the  tree.  The  cub, 
sensing  Suzanna's  waning  interest,  became  play 
fully  inclined,  and  started  in  pursuit.  Suzanna 
slid  backward  toward  the  lower  end  of  the  limb. 
The  cub  crept  toward  her.  Not  realizing  its  in 
tentions,  the  girl  began  shouting  for  help.  She  was 
in  no  particular  danger,  a  moment's  thought  would 
have  assured  her  of  that,  but  she  had  become  panic- 
stricken,  and  her  cries  carried  conviction. 

Ramon,  riding  at  the  head  of  his  wagon-train, 
stood  in  his  stirrups  as  he  caught  the  faint  sound  of 
someone  calling  for  help.  The  boy  cast  an  anxious 
look  ahead  of  him,  and  then  turned  to  his  peons 
to  see  if  they  betrayed  any  sign  of  having  heard  that 
strange  call.  The  poor  devils  had  crawled  back 
to  the  wagon  soon  after  Perez  and  his  band  had 
disappeared,  asking  for  the  punishment  they  so 
richly  deserved.  Ramon  had  left  their  punish- 


THE  HISTORY  OF  A  PIECE  OF  SILK     75 

ment  to  Ruiz,  knowing  that  he  would  exact  many 
extra  hours  in  the  fields  from  them  for  their 
cowardice. 

The  boy  saw  that  they  were  on  edge  now,  and 
with  a  call  to  his  sobrestante,  he  dashed  away 
toward  the  low  ridge  that  topped  the  wide  draw  in 
which  the  wagon  moved.  On  the  crest,  he  stopped 
for  an  instant  to  better  locate  the  source  of  those 
cries.  He  was  near  enough  the  tree  to  which  Su- 
zanna  and  the  bear  had  retreated  to  be  able  to  see  a 
form  dangling  from  a  lower  limb.  Giving  his  horse 
the  spurs,  he  sped  toward  the  old  cypress. 

"Hold  there!"  he  called  to  what  he  believed  to 
be  a  full-grown  boy :  "Let  go  when  I  give  the  word. 
Now!" 

Suzanna's  face  had  been  turned  upward  as  she 
clung  to  the  limb,  and  due  to  her  excitement  she 
had  not  recognized  Ramon's  voice.  He  was  equally 
ignorant  of  whom  he  rescued.  And  so,  when  he 
caught  her  and  they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes, 
astonishment  gripped  both  of  them. 

"Holy  Mother,"  Suzanna  gasped.     "You?" 

"None  other,  marimacho,"  Ramon  answrered  vex- 
edly.  "What  is  it  you  do  here?" 

"Hast  eyes,  petulant  one?"  Suzanna  scolded. 


76  SUZANNA 


The  boy's  teeth  flashed  in  a  wide  grin  as  he 
caught  sight  of  the  cub.  "Oh,  ho!"  he  chuckled 
the  while  he  nodded  his  head  mockingly.  "You  best 
be  careful  whose  trees  you  climb.  Were  you  trying 
to  capture  him?" 

"Humph!  I  was  trying  to  get  away  from  him." 

Ramon's  laughter  grew  as  she  told  him  of  the 
incident. 

"Your  father  and  his  men  can  take  care  of  the 
cub.  I'll  carry  you  back  to  Pico,  and  see  you  safely 
to  the  hacienda.  The  country  is  too  unsettled  these 
days  for  you  to  be  wandering  off  in  this  manner. 
And  how,  by  the  way,  do  you  make  of  this  a  holi 
day?" 

"Are  you  cross  with  me,  my  Ramon?"  Suzanna 
asked  naively. 

"Have  I  ever  been,  camarada?" 

Suzanna  pinched  his  cheek  playfully  and  ended 
by  giving  it  an  affectionate  pat.  "My  father  will 
scold  when  he  hears  that  I  have  been  away  since 
noon."  She  stopped  speaking  until  her  eyes  held 
the  boy's.  "He  does  not  scold — much — when  you 
tell  him  that  your  father  is  not  displeased." 

"Si,  I  understand,"  Ramon  nodded.  "I  shall  in 
tercede  for  you,  once  more!" 


THE  HISTORY  OF  A  PIECE  OF  SILK     77 

He  reached  for  her  playfully,  and  Suzanna  in 
tiying  to  dodge  away  from  his  arms  dropped  the 
piece  of  silk  which  had  been  hidden  in  her  blouse. 
Ramon's  hand  shot  out  and  captured  it  before  it 
reached  the  ground.  The  boy  instantly  recognized 
the  mogador.  "How  do  you  come  by  this?"  he 
demanded  sharply. 

"Art  jealous?"  Suzanna  asked  saucily.  "And 
surprised,  my  Ramon?  Am  I  so  plain  that  you 
marvel  to  find  others  making  presents  to  me?" 

The  boy  had  gripped  her  wrists  savagely.  The 
pressure  of  his  fingers,  as  well  as  the  grim  set 
of  his  jaw,  sobered  the  girl.  Open-mouthed  she 
stared  at  him. 

"Present?"  Ramon  whipped  out  angrily.  "I 
selected  that  piece  of  silk  for  you  myself, — this 
very  day  aboard  a  smuggling  ship  from  Boston, 
now  anchored  in  Monterey  Bay!" 

"You  selected  it?"  Suzanna  gasped,  unable  to 
understand  the  boy's  words.  "You  say  that  you 
selected  it  for  me,"  she  exclaimed,  "and  yet  I  have 
it  here, — the  gift  of  one  who  is  a  stranger  to  you. 
If  you  selected  it  how  came  it  out  of  your  posses 


sion?" 


'It  was  taken  from  me  not  an  hour  since,"  cried 


78  SUZANNA 


Ramon,  his  anger  unabated.  "We  were  attacked 
by  the  bandit,  Benito  Perez,  as  we  came  to  El  Paso 
del  Viento." 

"Benito  Perez!"  Suzanna  let  the  man's  name 
tremble  upon  her  tongue. 

"Holy  Mother  of  God!"  she  muttered  chokingly 
as  she  crossed  herself.  "I've  been  kissed  by  the 
most  famous  robber  in  California!" 


CHAPTER  VII 

CHIQUITA  DE  SOLA 

ALTHOUGH  Don  Fernando  had  not  communicated 
his  misgivings  to  his  friend,  Diego  de  Sola,  that 
gentleman  was  most  miserable  on  his  own  account; 
life  in  Mexico  City  having  proved  anything  but 
what  he  had  anticipated.  His  interests  were  largely 
centered  in  his  hacienda  in  California,  and  however 
blue  the  day,  he  drew  solace  from  the  fact  that  he 
would  soon  be  returning  to  that  land  of  sunshine, 
where,  God  be  praised,  his  daughter  would  soon  be 
safely  wed. 

Disquieting  news  at  this  time  would  have  been 
too  much,  for  Don  Diego's  cup  of  misery  was  al 
ready  overflowing,  his  daughter's  education  prov 
ing  a  greater  task  than  his  gray  hairs  could  man 
age.  He  paced  his  tastefully  appointed  study  on 
this  particular  night,  agitation  and  worry  plainly 
written  upon  his  handsome  face. 

He  paused  as  someone  knocked  for  admission. 
In  reply  to  his  command  to  enter,  the  door  opened 

79 


80  SUZANNA 


to  admit  a  middle-aged  woman.  Quietly  closing 
the  door  behind  her,  she  hesitated,  in  evident  em 
barrassment,  before  speaking. 

Don  Diego  sensed  her  confusion.  "No  need  to 
ask,"  he  exclaimed.  "You  bring  bad  news." 

The  woman  bowed  her  head  unhappily.  "I  re 
gret  that  it  is  so,"  she  answered.  "Seiiora  Carrera 
positively  refuses  to  permit  Chiquita  to  return  to 
her  studies." 

Sefior  de  Sola  flung  himself  into  a  chair  at  this 
news,  holding  his  tongue  by  a  supreme  effort.  At 
sight  of  his  anger,  the  woman  hastened  to  add: 

"I  have  pleaded — threatened  almost — but  she 
will  not  relent.  She  says  the  girl  has  too  often 
violated  the  rules  of  the  school  to  deserve  another 
chance.  She  even  refers  to  her  as  a  girl  without 
— the — er — sense  of  right  or  wrong.  "I " 

"Precisely  what  is  my  daughter  accused  of  do 
ing?"  Don  Diego  demanded  with  asperity. 

Instead  of  answering,  the  woman  resorted  to 
tears.  "I — I — do  not  want  to  say,"  she  managed 
to  stammer  at  last. 

"But  you  shall!"  Chiquita's  father  exclaimed. 
"I  command  you  to  tell  me!  You  are  her  duenna; 
you  have  been  closer  to  her  than  I  have;  I  em- 


CHIQUITA  DE  SOLA  81 

ployed  you  to  keep  her  reputation  consistent  with 
the  position  she  and  I  occupy.  If  the  girl  has 
done  wrong,  then  you  are  partly  to  blame.  You 
should  have  restrained  her, — kept  me  informed. 
Now  she  is  sent  home  in  disgrace;  and  yet  you 
hesitate  to  tell  me  what  the  girl  has  done?" 

De  Sola's  angry  words  but  increased  the  misery 
of  the  poor  woman  before  him.  "I  have  tried  to 
protect  her,"  she  said  between  sobs.  "I  have  aided 
her  in  every  way;  but  she  has  taken  advantage  of 


me." 


"But  what  has  she  done?"  the  irate  father  thun 
dered  as  he  got  to  his  feet. 

"She  has  been  escaping  from  school  and  meeting 
young  men  clandestinely." 

"What?"  Don  Diego's  usually  calm  brown  eyes 
grew  almost  black  as  this  startling  news  greeted 
his  ears.  White-lipped,  he  approached  the  duenna. 
"Is  this  true?"  he  cried  excitedly.  "Do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  my  daughter  has  so  far  forgotten 
herself  and  her  breeding  as  to  be  guilty  of  such 
baseness?" 

"Senora  Carrera  insists  that  it  is.  She  went  so 
far  as  to  say  that  her  school  would  be  ruined  if 
fathers  and  mothers  learned  that  one  of  her  pupils 


82  SUZANNA 


had  committed  such  misdeeds.  That  is  why  she 
even  refuses  to  think  of  taking  her  back." 

"Where  have  your  eyes  been?"  Don  Diego  de 
manded.  "Have  you  been  blind  that  you  did  not 
see  or  suspect  as  much?  I  trusted  you  with  the 
honor  of  my  family, — and  now  I  am  forced  to  bow 
my  head  in  shame.  Poor  witless  wretch,  I  owe  you 
a  debt,  indeed.  Pack  your  things  and  be  gone!" 

"It  were  easy  to  blame  me,"  the  duenna  an 
swered  with  a  show  of  spirit.  "Had  your  own  child 
as  much  consideration  for  your  good  name  as  I  have 
had  there  would  be  no  talk  of  shame.  My  back  has 
never  been  turned  before  she  was  up  to  mischief. 
I  am  glad  to  go.  Never  has  a  woman  been  tried 
as  I  have  been." 

Don  Diego  made  no  attempt  to  answer  her,  and 
starting  for  the  door,  the  woman  stopped  as  she 
passed  a  window  overlooking  the  moon-lit  garden. 

"See!"  she  exclaimed,  pointing  toward  the  patio. 
"There  is  added  proof  if  you  want  it!  The  girl 
has  not  been  in  the  house  ten  minutes,  but  already 
she  finds  time  for  further  misconduct." 

De  Sola  pointed  to  the  door.  "Go!"  he  ordered 
sternly,  but  no  sooner  had  the  woman  quitted  the 


CHIQUITA  DE  SOLA 83 

room  than  he  leaped  to  the  window  and  raked  the 
garden  with  his  eyes. 

It  was  a  beautiful  evening, — a  night  made  for 
love  and  lovers.  From  above  shone  the  moon  in  all 
its  full  resplendence;  scintillating  stars  wreath-like 
around  it.  Iridescent  moon-beams  cast  shimmer 
ing  shadows  on  the  rose-strewn,  trellised  garden. 
As  the  don's  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  light, 
he  made  out  two  figures  in  the  shadow  of  the  patio 
wall;  one  a  man — a  stranger;  the  other  a  girl — his 
daughter. 

Uttering  an  angry  exclamation,  he  turned  from 
the  window  and,  pausing  only  to  buckle  on  his 
sword,  he  rushed  downstairs  and  into  the  garden. 

Chiquita  lay  in  the  man's  arms,  unaware  of  ap 
proaching  disaster.  She  was  a  radiantly  beautiful 
girl,  or  rather  woman,  for  there  was  little  of  the 
shy,  unsophisticated  girl,  which  she  had  been  when 
she  first  came  to  Mexico  City,  left  in  her. 

Her  sultry  beauty  seemed  to  intoxicate  the  stran 
ger.  Her  lips,  rich,  full,  had  tasted  his  kisses  and 
she  lay  back  now,  daring  him  on  with  her  smoky 
eyes.  The  stranger  accepted  her  challenge,  and 
pressed  her  to  him  again  and  again. 


84  SUZANNA 


"Ah,  Pancho,"  she  murmured  dreamily,  "thou 
art  a  wonderful  lover." 

"And  thou  art  a  still  more  wonderful  sweet 
heart,"  the  man  breathed  softly  into  her  ear.  "Thine 
eyes  are  as  the  most  precious  stones,  thy  hair  as 
sheer  as  finest  silk,  thy  brow  fairer  than  any  gentle 
sun  or  whispering  wind  ever  kissed;  thy  lips  are 
more  perfect  than  a  cupid's  bow,  sweeter  than 
honey,  softer  than  eiderdown,  more  colorful  than 
a  pomegranate.  Thou  art  the  personification  of 
Venus  and  all  her  beautiful  sisters  combined. 
Thou " 

"Enough,  enamorato  mio,"  Chiquita  interrupted 
with  a  warm  little  laugh.  "Thou  art  as  good  at 
piercing  my  poor  heart  and  brain  with  thy  flattery 
as  thou  art  at  piercing  the  heart  of  a  maddened 
bull  with  thy  sword.  But  what  thy  lips  fail  to  say, 
thy  eyes  revealeth.  Thou  art  thinking  that  I " 

Chiquita  broke  off  with  startling  suddenness,  as 
she  looked  up  and  saw  her  father  striding  angrily 
toward  her.  The  man  saw  him,  too,  and  immedi 
ately  released  her. 

"Your  father!"  he  murmured  hastily,  lifting  a 
derisive  hand  in  the  direction  of  Don  Diego.  "I'll 


CHIQUITA  DE  SOLA  85 

stand  before  an  angry  bull,  but  a  maddened  father, 


-never!" 


Chiquita  was  too  badly  flustered  to  heed  his  wit. 
Dumbly,  she  saw  him  vault  easily  to  the  top  of 
the  wall  which  enclosed  the  garden.  Safe,  he 
paused  bravely  enough  and  plucked  a  rose,  pressed 
it  to  his  lips  and  tossed  it  toward  her. 

Don  Diego  reached  for  him  with  his  sword  as  the 
stranger  disappeared  in  the  darkness  on  the  other 
side  of  the  wall,  his  insolent  laugh  floating  back  to 
the  father's  ears.  But  even  though  Don  Diego 
caught  the  rose  which  the  stranger  had  thrown 
Chiquita,  he  failed  to  recognize  the  fleeing  lover. 

Don  Diego  crushed  the  flower  between  his  fingers 
and  throwing  it  to  the  earth,  ground  it  into  the  dirt 
with  his  heel.  Silently  then,  for  an  interval,  they 
took  stock  of  each  other;  the  proud,  self -centered 
girl's  lips  curling  with  contempt  for  the  indulgent 
parent  who  had  treated  her  so  cavalierly;  the 
father's  face  suffused  with  shame  that  his  own  flesh 
and  blood  had  tarnished  the  honour  of  his  house. 

"What  manner  of  woman  are  you?"  he  asked 
when  he  could  trust  his  voice.  "Have  you  forgot 
ten  every  teaching?  It  is  not  enough  that  you  are 
bundled  home  from  school,  but  ten  minutes  after 


86  SUZANNA 


you  arrive  you  must  prove  to  me  with  my  own  eyes 
that  Sefiora  Carrera  did  not  libel  you!" 

"I  am  old  enough  for  love,"  Chiquita  answered 
flatly. 

"Love?"  her  father  cried  incredulously.  "You 
shame  the  word.  Do  you  call  it  love,  to  deliver 
yourself  to  the  embraces  of  one  who  comes  and 
goes  by  way  of  the  garden  wall?  Have  I  the  man's 
acc[uaintanee?  Does  he  come  with  honorable  in 
tentions?  You  need  not  answer!  This  man — I 
had  no  look  at  his  face,  but  by  the  cut  of  his 
clothes  some  blustering  torero — shall  answer  to 
me,  no  matter  what  his  station." 

"But  first,  you  shall  find  him,"  the  girl  de 
clared  impudently.  "Think  you,  my  father,  that 
I  am  satisfied  to  spend  my  days  answering  to  the 
whims  of  crusty  teacher  or  wrinkled  duenna?  I 
did  not  come  to  Mexico  City  to  take  Holy  Orders!" 

"Stop!"  Don  Diego  fumed.  "You  came  here 
to  learn  the  airs  and  graces  befitting  one  of  your 
high  estate.  I  had  no  mind  for  leaving  California. 
It  was  to  please  you  that  we  came  here.  You  wanted 
advantages  that  were  not  to  be  had  at  home.  And 
you  repay  me  with  this!  Have  you  forgotten  that 
you  are  already  betrothed?  What  would  Ramon 


CHIQUITA  DE  SOLA 87 

and  his  family  think  if  they  knew  of  your  conduct?" 
"Small  difference  it  would  make  to  me,"  Chi 
quita  answered  with  a  toss  of  her  head.  "If  I  am 
betrothed  to  Ramon  it  is  because  it  pleased  you,  not 


me." 


"God  pity  me  that  I  should  live  to  hear  such 
words  from  your  lips,"  her  father  cried.  "There 
is  not  a  girl  in  the  New  World  but  what  would  be 
honored  with  Ramon  Gutierrez  for  husband.  He 
is  a  worthy  son.  His  father  tells  me  that  Ramon 
waits  with  impatience  for  your  return.  This  night 
shall  a  letter  be  dispatched  to  Don  Fernando  tell 
ing  him  that  we  leave  immediately." 

Chiquita  heard  this  ultimatum  with  ill-concealed 
regret.  Angry  tears  filled  her  eyes.  Her  father, 
mis-reading  her  emotion,  made  as  though  to  place 
his  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Chiquita,  my  child,"  he  said  sadly,  "you  are 
all  your  father  has;  why  do  you  act  in  this  man 
ner?  Come  to  my  arms  and  promise  me  that  you 
wiU " 

But  the  girl  turned  from  him,  and  without  a 
word,  hurried  up  the  path  toward  the  house. 

Once  in  her  room,  Chiquita  resorted  to  tears. 


88  SUZANNA 


She  told  herself  that  she  preferred  death  to  going 
back  to  California. 

"I  hate  it,"  she  sobbed.  "There's  no  place  to 
go;  nothing  to  do;  no  crowds,  no  life;  no  music, — 
I'll  die  of  loneliness." 

And  in  her  madness  she  dropped  to  her  knees 
and  begged  her  patron  saint  to  put  some  obstacle 
in  her  father's  path  that  would  forever  keep  him 
from  returning  to  California  and  its  barren  hills. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  BLOOD  STRAIN 

SENOR  ALVAREZ,  the  lawyer,  returned  to  the  Ha 
cienda  de  Gutierrez  ten  days  after  his  conference 
with  Ramon's  father.  Miguel,  his  son,  had  re 
mained  at  the  hacienda  during  this  time,  and  it  was 
the  lawyer's  intention  to  return  this  day  to  Mon 
terey  with  the  boy,  his  vacation  having  ended. 

Even  his  adoring  father  must  have  noted  the 
change  in  Miguel.  The  boy  was  more  robust  and 
in  spirit  grown  actually  mischievous.  He  had 
pestered  Don  Fernando's  vaqueros  so  persistently 
that,  in  self-defense,  they  had  taught  him  how  to 
throw  a  rope  and  sit  upon  a  horse. 

Miguel's  efforts  to  reward  his  teachers  had  been 
tireless,  but  not  altogether  successful.  Suzanna 
had  laughed  openly  at  his  awkwardness.  In  fact, 
the  truculence  and  impudence  of  this  peon  girl 
was  the  one  fly  in  an  otherwise  perfect  vacation 
for  the  boy.  He  resented  the  airs  she  gave  herself, 

and  this  was  not  helped  any  by  seeing  that  Don  Fer- 

89 


90  SUZANNA 


nando  and  his  family  humored  her  and  by  their 
graciousness  gave  her  courage  for  fresh  indignities. 

Miguel,  as  wise  in  his  way  as  his  father  was, 
had  said  nothing,  but  he  had  sought  for  a  means 
by  which  he  could  humble  the  girl.  This  very  last 
day  of  his  sojourn  at  the  rancho  seemed  to  hold  a 
promise  of  success  for  him. 

Suzanna's  proudest  possession — with  the  pos 
sible  exception  of  the  bear  which  her  father  had 
captured  for  her — was  a  small,  thoroughbred  fight 
ing  gamecock,  Timoteo,  by  name. 

Timoteo  had  vanquished  all  local  foes,  and  Su- 
zanna  paid  him  the  homage  due  a  champion.  The 
hacienda  was  the  extent  of  her  world,  and  she  re 
fused  to  believe  that  beyond  its  borders  there  might 
be  a  bird  able  to  take  away  Timoteo's  crown.  Hu 
man  beings  are  prone  to  grow  extravagant  in  their 
speech  regarding  things  which  they  consider  cer 
tainties.  It  was  so  with  Suzanna.  If  one  wanted 
to  draw  her  wrath,  he  had  but  to  question  Timoteo's 
prowess.  Miguel  had,  inadvertently,  and  then,  see 
ing  the  effect  it  produced,  had  resorted  to  it  daily 
as  fair  reward  for  the  indignities  the  girl  offered 
him. 

Miguel's  knowledge  of  gamecocks  was  most  lim- 


THE  BLOOD  STRAIN  91 

ited,  but  happily  Suzanna  was  blind  to  this  fact. 
The  boy  pretended  to  a  wide  experience  with  the 
fighting  birds,  and  from  the  heights  to  which  this 
knowledge  raised  him  in  Suzanna's  eyes  he  had 
made  many  telling,  and  very  derisive,  remarks 
about  her  champion. 

The  girl's  misery  well  repaid  the  boy.  But  lack 
ing  that  delicate  sense  which  warns  against  a  too 
heavy  hand,  Miguel  overstepped  himself,  and  Su 
zanna,  daring  anything  in  her  anger,  scoffingly  in 
vited  him  to  produce  a  fighter  which  could  defeat 
her  precious  Timoteo.  The  defy  having  been 
hurled  in  the  presence  of  the  vaqueros  whom  the 
boy  had  tried  to  impress,  left  Miguel  but  one  an 
swer,  for  all  that  it  was  hardly  the  custom  for 
his  class  to  resort  to  the  fighting  pit  with  a  peon. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  this  very  day,  Miguel 
had  set  out  to  find  Timoteo's  conqueror.  He  had 
given  himself  so  much  knowledge  that  he  dared  not 
ask  advice,  at  this  late  date,  of  those  wrho  really 
knew.  Monterey  was  too  far  away,  so  the  boy 
had  turned  to  the  south  where  a  large  force  of  Mexi 
can  peons  were  constructing  a  crude  bridge  across 
the  Rio  Salinas.  From  them  he  hoped  to  purchase 


92  SUZANNA 


a  bird  that  would  tear  Suzanna's  presumptuous 
contender  to  ribbons. 

Timoteo  was  a  small,  blue-black,  vicious-eyed 
gamecock.  Miguel  came  back  from  his  quest  bear 
ing  a  bird  three  times  the  size  of  Suzanna's  pet. 
The  peon,  from  whom  the  boy  had  purchased  him, 
had  assured  Miguel  that  the  rooster  had  no  peer 
with  the  steel  spurs.  The  man,  seeing  that  he 
dealt  with  a  child,  had  pointed  to  the  bird's  size 
as  further  proof  of  his  ability,  and  Miguel,  not 
knowing  that  the  very  size  of  the  rooster  proclaimed 
him  a  cross-breed,  had  paid  his  money,  and  headed 
for  the  north  well  satisfied  with  himself. 

Moving  with  caution,  he  had  smuggled  the  bird 
into  his  room  to  await  the  coming  bout.  No  word 
of  it  reached  the  members  of  Don  Fernando's  house 
hold  or  Miguel's  father ;  but  the  news  spread  quickly 
among  those  employed  on  the  hacienda. 

The  bout  was  scheduled  to  take  place  at  sun 
down.  Miguel  waited  until  the  bell  announced  the 
evening  meal,  and  then,  his  bird  in  a  bag,  he  stole 
out  of  the  casa  and  made  for  the  corral  in  back  of 
the  peons'  quarters.  He  found  the  audience  al 
ready  assembled,  with  Suzanna  standing!  impa- 


THE  BLOOD  STRAIN  93 

tiently  in  the  center  of  the  ring,  holding  Timoteo  in 
the  crook  of  her  arm. 

The  gamecock  struggled  and  uttered  his  battle- 
cry  the  instant  that  Miguel  brought  forth  his 
rooster.  Suzanna  laughed  as  she  saw  the  size  of 
Miguel's  contender.  The  pit-wise  onlookers 
grinned  also.  The  boy  interpreted  this  greeting  cor 
rectly,  and  his  assurance  left  him  as  he  saw  that  his 
rooster  made  no  attempt  to  answer  Timoteo's  cry. 
With  a  savage  pinch  he  rang  a  protesting  squawk 
from  the  bird. 

"Ha,  ha!"  Suzanna  cried.  "That  bird  is  neither 
fit  for  pot  or  pit.  Wait,  Timoteo,"  she  cooed  to  her 
pet,  "we  shall  laugh  soon  enough." 

"We  shall  see,"  Miguel  retorted  acidly.  "Make 
your  precious  bird  ready. 

The  steel  spurs  were  quickly  attached,  and  with 
a  movement  of  the  referee's  hand  Miguel  and  Su 
zanna  tossed  their  fowls  into  the  ring. 

As  though  shot  out  of  a  gun,  Timoteo  leaped  for 
the  big  rooster,  ripping  him  with  his  spurs.  Migu 
el's  bird  lost  all  interest  immediately.  With  a 
frightened  cry  he  sailed  into  the  air  and  over  the 
heads  of  the  watchers,  Timoteo  after  him.  The 
audience  shrieked.  Suzanna  uttered  a  wild  cry 


94  SUZANNA 


and  pursued  the  fowls.  Miguel,  thoroughly  crest 
fallen,  followed  her. 

It  had  been  no  fight  at  all,  and  now,  all  but  the 
boy,  held  their  sides  as  the  farce  proceeded.  The 
rooster  and  the  gamecock  darted  round  and  round 
the  corral  fence  and  in  and  out  beneath  the  farm 
implements  and  wagons  parked  beside  it. 

"Turn  them  back!"  Suzanna  cried  to  Miguel  as 
the  fowls  headed  in  his  direction,  and  Miguel,  in  a 
white  rage  at  the  rooster  who  had  let  him  in  for  this 
ridicule,  leaped  forward,  but  he  fell  short  of  turn 
ing  them.  The  open  kitchen  door  lay  beyond,  and 
risking  all  on  a  wild  dash,  the  rooster  lined  straight 
for  it. 

A  cry  of  dismay  rose  from  the  crowd  at  this. 
This  cock  fight  had  been  held  without  the  sanction 
of  Don  Fernando,  a  trivial  enough  matter,  but  the 
peons  knew  that  the  evening  meal  was  still  in  prog 
ress  within  the  casa,  and  that  the  dining  room  lay 
just  beyond  the  kitchen.  Should  Timoteo  chase 
the  fleeing  rooster  into  that  holy  of  holies, — cui- 
dado! — trouble  would  follow. 

Miguel  added  his  groans  to  the  peons'  cries  when 
he  got  up  from  the  dust.  If  the  calamity,  which  the 


THE  BLOOD  STRAIN 95 

servants  feared,  came  to  pass,  he  was  in  for  a  very 
embarrassing  hour. 

Suzanna's  nimble  brain  grasped  the  situation, 
too,  but  unlike  the  others,  she  rushed  after  her  pet. 
She  called  to  Timoeto  as  she  ran,  but  Timoteo  was 
a  bird  of  one  purpose  at  present.  Another  second, 
and  Miguel's  rooster  darted  into  the  kitchen;  in 
his  immediate  rear,  the  rushing  gamecock. 

The  crowd  did  not  wait  for  the  verdict,  but  slunk 
away,  intent  on  disavowing  any  connection  with 
the  affair.  Miguel  saw  Suzanna  enter  the  kitchen, 
and  with  a  sort  of  dying  hope  that  the  inevitable 
might  still  be  averted,  he  dashed  after  her.  His 
heart  failed  him  as  he  gained  the  door  and  saw  that 
the  way  to  the  dining  room  was  unbarred. 

No  sound  of  the  tumult  outside  had  penetrated 
the  cool,  darkened  room  in  which  Don  Fernando's 
family  and  Senor  Alvarez  sat.  Ramon's  father  sat 
at  one  end  of  the  long  board  experiencing  the  com 
fortable  feeling  of  a  man  whose  stomach  is  well- 
filled  and  whose  mind  is  at  peace  with  the  world. 
The  house-servants  had  just  removed  the  dishes, 
and  with  hand-rolled  cigars  and  a  rare  vintage  be 
fore  him,  Don  Fernando  surveyed  his  friend,  Al 
varez,  and  his  son,  Ramon,  with  keen  pleasure. 


96  SUZANNA 


Ramon's  father  and  the  lawyer  had  held  a  con 
sultation  that  afternoon,  and  it  had  been  planned 
that  at  this  very  time  the  boy  should  hear  the  ulti 
matum  in  regard  to  Suzanna. 

It  was  a  propitious  moment.  The  meal  had 
passed  with  rare  pleasure,  and  Don  Fernando  con 
gratulated  himself  on  choosing  this  time  for  broach 
ing  the  subject.  He  shot  a  keen  glance  in  the  direc 
tion  of  his  son,  and  was  further  pleased  to  note 
that  Ramon  was  in  excellent  spirits.  The  aged  don 
showed  his  astuteness  by  addressing  himself  to  Al 
varez  rather  than  to  the  boy. 

"How  do  things  fare  in  Monterey?"  he  asked 
quite  casually. 

The  lawyer  had  awaited  this  question,  and  he 
promptly  voiced  his  rehearsed  answer. 

"From  bad  to  worse,"  he  replied  with  a  show 
of  feeling.  "The  Mission  property  is  about  de 
stroyed.  Some  of  the  small  ranchers  are  hiring 
the  Indians  at  a  daily  wage.  If  this  thing  is  not 
put  down,  we  will  be  hard-pressed  to  gather  our 
crops.  We  cannot  exist  without  peon  labor.  This 
talk  of  educating  them  is  heresy.  Once  we  start 
that,  they  will  be  out  of  hand  completely." 


_  THE  BLOOD  STRAIN  _  97 

"Well,  I  wonder,"  Don  Fernando  replied,  seem 
ing  to  weigh  his  answer. 

"What?    Have  you  turned  Republican,  too?" 

"Hardly!  But  I  have  begun  to  question  some 
of  our  institutions." 

Ramon  heard  his  father's  words  in  amazement. 
This  was  an  unbending  which  he  had  never  dreamed 
possible.  Don  Fernando  read  his  son's  thoughts, 
and  made  his  cast. 

"T^Tiat  I  am  about  to  say  will  come  as  a  great 
surprise,  I  know,"  the  master  of  the  hacienda  con 
tinued.  "I  have  gone  so  far  as  to  formulate  certain 
plans  regarding  the  educating  of  one  of  my  peons. 
But  last  evening  did  I  receive  confirmation  of 
them." 

"Ruiz?"  the  lawyer  asked  interestedly. 

"No,"  Don  Fernando  replied  deliberately,  and 
with  a  shaking  of  his  head,  —  "his  daughter,  Su- 


zanna." 


Ramon  asked.     "Have  you  spoken  to 

her?     She  has  -  " 

"Ramon!"   Dona    Luz    remonstrated.      "Allow 

your  father  to  finish." 

Senor  Gutierrez  bowed,  and  went  on: 
"Suzanna  is  an  unusual  girl.     A  beautiful  wo- 


98  SUZANNA 


man,  I  might  add.  She  seems  to  possess  intelli 
gence  beyond  the  scope  of  the  average  peon. 
Enough  so,  that  she  manages  to  unload  her  work 
upon  the  shoulders  of  others.  Her  lack  of  indus 
try  is  the  girl's  worst  fault. 

"But  you  know,"  continuing  to  address  himself 
to  Alvarez,  "that  my  wife  and  I  have  long  felt 
a  peculiar  attachment  for  her.  Her  father  has  been 
a  loyal  servant.  That,  as  well  as  my  interest  in  the 
girl  herself  has  led  me  to  make  this  move." 

"It  is  a  worthy  effort,  although  it  may  prove  a 
foolhardy  one,"  Dona  Luz  declared  uneasily. 

"Surely  it  is  a  wonderful  chance  for  the  girl," 
Alvarez  cried  heartily.  "Why  there  is  not  one 
peon  in  ten  thousand  who  can  write  his  own  name. 
The  girl  is  beautiful;  but,  in  all  kindness,  one 
must  admit  that  she  is  without  culture  of  any  sort." 

"If  there  is  any  possibility  of  her  acquiring  it," 
Don  Fernando  answered,  "ghe  will  do  so  at  San 
Luis  Bautista." 

"San  Luis  Bautista?"  Ramon  echoed  incredu 
lously. 

"Yes.  I  received  word  last  evening  from  Padre 
Altado  saying  he  would  receive  her." 

"Why,  San  Luis  Bautista  is  many  leagues  away," 


THE  BLOOD  STRAIN 99 

the  boy  exclaimed.  "She  will  be  gone  from  the 
hacienda  for  a  matter  of  months.  She  is  intensely 
happy  here.  Have  you  given  any  thought  to  the 
fact  that  she  is  going  to  be  miserable  and  lonesome 
in  San  Luis  Bautista?" 

"It  is  a  means  to  an  end,  my  boy.  For  it,  she 
must  be  willing  to  suffer." 

A  sadness  which  he  could  not  explain  had  settled 
upon  the  boy's  heart.  For  the  first  time  his  eyes 
were  open  to  the  fact  that  Suzanna  was  very,  very 
dear  to  him.  In  kaleidoscopic  procession,  his  life 
time  association  with  her  passed  across  his  mental 
mirror.  In  his  boy  and  man  world  there  had  been 
no  one  to  approach  her  in  comradeship.  He  had 
grown  to  take  her  for  granted.  The  sudden  an 
nouncement  that  she  was  to  be  taken  away  from  him 
for  a  period  that  might  well  be  as  long  as  two 
years,  filled  him  with  consternation.  The  loss  of 
impudent,  tomboyish  Suzanna  assumed  the  propor 
tions  of  a  calamity.  And  although  pressed  as  he 
was  for  time,  he  asked  himself  why  this  should  be 
so. 

The  lingering  caress  of  her  fingers  upon  his 
cheek,  the  sweet  fragrance  of  her  breath,  memories 
of  her  unafraid  eyes  and  the  thrill  which  had  suf- 


100  SUZANNA 


fused  his  body  that  very  morning  when  he,  in  lift 
ing  her  from  her  saddle,  had  held  her  close  for  a 
brief  second,  came  back  to  smite  him.  The  pas 
sive  male  in  him  disappeared  in  a  twinkling  as 
such  pictures  continued  to  flash  in  his  brain.  Long 
dormant  primordial  instincts  took  possession  of 
him.  Boyhood  passed,  and  manhood  gripped 
him.  The  sex  impulse  was  in  it,  and  the  thirst  to 
protect  his  own. 

Suzanna  was  his  mate,  his  woman.  He  saw  it, 
oh,  so  clearly,  now.  What  mattered  it  that  she  was 
a  peon?  This  talk  of  blood  strains  had  no  place  in 
California.  Before  God,  the  two  of  them  stood 
together, — a  man  and  a  woman!  The  thought 
brought  him  to  his  feet. 

His  mother  caught  his  agitation  and  she  pressed 
her  hands  together  nervously  as  he  raised  his  voice. 

"Have  you  told  Suzanna  that  she  goes  so  far  as 
San  Luis  Bautista?"  Ramon  demanded. 

Don  Fernando  winced  at  the  thought  that  he 
should  be  expected  to  consult  with  his  servants 
about  a  matter  which  pointed  to  their  own  welfare. 

"Certainly  not,"  he  cried.  "I  am  the  master  of 
this  hacienda!  Do  you,  my  son,  suggest  that  / 


THE  BLOOD  STRALN 101 

confer  with  one  of  my  peons  before  I  raise  my 
hand  to  act?" 

"Perhaps  'twere  well  you  did,  my  father,"  Ra 
mon  answered  stoutly.  "It  is  nothing  short  of 
cruelty  to  take  a  girl,  who  has  never  been  beyond 
the  boundaries  of  this  rancho,  to  a  strange  place, 
among  strange  faces,  and  where  at  best  she  will  re 
ceive  scant  respect  from  those  about  her." 

The  boy's  voice  rang  out  so  intensely  that  those 
at  the  table  were  not  aware  of  Suzanna  who  had 
crept  in  from  the  kitchen  in  search  of  Timoteo  and 
his  quarry.  Miguel's  rooster  had  taken  refuge  in 
a  great  wicker  basket  beside  the  door.  Timoteo, 
missing  him  completely,  was  searching  vainly  be 
neath  the  table  for  him. 

Suzanna  had  not  caught  the  mention  of  her  name, 
but  she  sensed  immediately  the  strife  between  fa 
ther  and  son.  The  distraught  face  of  Dona  Luz  and 
the  excited  eyes  of  the  attorney  rilled  her  with 
alarm.  For  all  her  trepidation,  Suzanna  knew  that 
if  Don  Fernando  caught  her  intruding  at  this  unfor 
tunate  moment  that  no  light  punishment  would  be 
visited  on  her.  So,  consigning  Timoteo  to  the  ten 
der  mercies  of  the  saints,  she  turned  cautiously 
toward  the  kitchen.  She  had  taken  but  one  tiny 


102  SUZANNA 


step  when  the  wrathful  don's  voice  boomed  in  her 
ears.  With  every  muscle  quivering  nervously,  Su 
zanna  cowered  where  she  stood. 

Don  Fernando  had  not  seen  her.  His  attention 
was  riveted  solely  upon  his  son. 

"Your  saintly  mother  and  I  know  what  is  best 
for  Suzanna!"  he  thundered  wrathfully. 

Suzanna  recoiled  at  sound  of  her  name.  Her 
hand  went  to  her  mouth  as  she  realized  that  she 
was  the  cause  of  this  scene. 

"I  thought  you  would  be  pleased  at  what  I  in 
tend,"  Don  Fernando  exclaimed.  "You  have  grown 
up  together;  I  know  your  feeling  for  the  girl,  and  I 
am  only  sorry  that  your  present  interest  in  her  is 
misplaced.  You  should  know  that  neither  your 
mother  nor  I  would  do  aught  to  hurt  her.  Men  call 
me  stern,  but,  praise  God,  not  unjust.  Remember 
this,  my  boy, — you  are  the  descendant  of  kings! 
Suzanne  is  a  peon.  It  is  part  of  your  legacy  that 
you  guide  the  weaker.  You  cannot  temper  wisdom 
with  sentiment.  Suzanna  goes  south  by  next  train 
to  San  Luis  Bautista!" 

In  fitting  answer  to  this  outburst  came  a  wild 
cry.  Timoteo  had  caught  sight  of  a  stuffed  eagle 
reposing  upon  a  stand  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  and 


THE  BLOOD  STRAIN  103 

its  life-like  appearance  must  have  fooled  the  game 
cock  into  believing  that  here  at  last  was  the  cow 
ardly  rooster. 

Dona  Luz  gasped  with  astonishment  as  a  feath 
ered  fury  leaped  from  beneath  the  table  and  landed 
upon  the  eagle's  back.  Alvarez  was  on  his  feet, 
his  chair  tipping  over  in  back  of  him  as  he  struggled 
to  get  free  of  it. 

Ramon  grinned  as  he  recognized  Timoteo.  Don 
Fernando  wheeled  upon  seeing  his  son  smile,  and 
found  himself  looking  into  Suzanna's  wet  eyes. 

The  worthy  man's  eyes  snapped  as  he  beheld  the 
girl.  Dona  Luz  gasped  as  she  saw  her  husband's 
face  grow  red  as  he  fought  for  speech. 

"Let  me  speak  to  the  girl,"  she  begged. 

For  once  Don  Fernando  was  deaf  to  her  en 
treaties.  Suzanna's  nervousness  but  added  to  her 
guilt  in  her  master's  eyes.  He  was  convinced  that 
she  had  stolen  into  the  room  to  overhear  what  was 
being  said. 

Suzanna  edged  toward  the  door  as  Don  Fernando 
glowered  at  her. 

"Stop!"  he  cried.  "Stand  where  you  are  until 
you  have  explained  your  presence  in  this  room." 


104  SUZANNA 


Dumbly,  Suzanna  bent  her  knee  to  him,  and 
whispered  "yes." 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  intrusion?"  the 
mighty  owner  of  the  Rancho  de  Gutierrez  roared. 
"Have  you  been  eavesdropping?" 

Miguel  had  been  drawn  by  the  excitement  and 
now  stood  in  the  doorway  beside  poor  Suzanna. 
She  saw  him  dimly  through  her  tears  as  she  choked 
back  a  sob  and  replied  to  her  master. 

"No,  Don  Fernando,"  she  said  brokenly.  "I 
was  only  trying  to  prove  to — to  this  young  gentle 
man — that  a  mongrel  cannot  compete  with  a  thor 
oughbred." 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  STRANGER  IS  MADE  WELCOME 

WHERE  El  Camino  Real  cut  across  a  broad  ex 
panse  of  fertile  valley  land,  a  most  striking  figure 
rode.  His  pigtail  proclaimed  him  a  toreador  by 
profession.  Even  seen  at  a  distance,  the  man  gave 
evidence  of  possessing  unusual  bodily  strength. 
With  becoming  grace,  he  sat  upon  his  horse,  a 
beautiful,  coal-black  animal.  He  was  slender,  and 
his  colorful  clothes  but  added  to  the  dare-devil 
air  which  the  reckless  tilt  of  his  mouth  prophesied. 

The  hilts  of  a  pair  of  rapiers  protruded  from 
his  saddle  bags;  behind  him  swung  his  guitar. 
Speed  seemed  to  be  a  matter  of  no  concern  to 
him,  for  he  repeatedly  pulled  his  horse  to  a  walk. 
The  morning  was  still  young,  and  the  air  keen 
with  earthy  smells. 

The  stranger  cast  a  speculative  eye  at  the  fields 
which  skirted  the  road.  That  the  prospect  pleased 
him  was  not  to  be  doubted  for  he  smiled  from  time 

to  time  and  pursed  his  lips  to  whistle  a  bold  lay. 

105 


106  SUZANNA 


And  yet,  for  all  his  care-free  manner,  the  man 
seemed  out  of  key  with  these  rural  surroundings. 
Indeed,  he  had  but  recently  quitted  Mexico  City 
where  his  prowess  had  won  him  some  little  fame. 

He  awakened  from  his  dreaming  and  ceased 
whistling  as  he  made  a  turn  in  the  road  and  saw 
an  elderly  friar  advancing  in  his  direction.  Halt 
ing  his  horse,  he  waited  for  the  priest  to  come  up 
to  him. 

The  rotund  friar  nodded  pleasantly,  and  the 
stranger,  uncovering  his  head  humbly,  addressed 
the  Franciscan.  "Good  morning,  good  padre,"  he 
murmured  in  tones  both  musical  and  flexible.  "I 
trust  your  health  is  of  the  best." 

The  friar  took  good  note  of  the  man's  costly  rai 
ment  and  the  style  of  his  hair.  Priest  he  might  be, 
but  even  so,  he  was  a  Spaniard,  and  not  without 
a  certain  fondness  for  those  of  the  bull-ring. 
"Thank  you,  my  son,"  he  answered  with  extreme 
good-will.  "May  the  saints  guard  you;  my  health 
is  most  excellent.  'Tis  passing  long  since  I  have 
seen  one  of  your  calling." 

The  stranger  smiled  at  this  directness. 

"You  live  in  a  new  country  with  little  time  for 
play,"  he  expostulated.  "I  have  almost  convinced 


A  STRANGER  IS  MADE  WELCOME  107 

myself  that  it  were  well  that  I  was  done  with  it,  too. 
Tell  me,  I  pray,  where  lies  the  hacienda  of  Don 
Diego  de  Sola?" 

"Just  a  short  distance  beyond,"  the  friar  an 
swered.  "In  fact  thou  art  gazing  on  the  fields  of 
Don  Diego  now.  By  continuing,  within  the  hour 
you  will  come  to  the  caserio.  It  lies  to  the  left  of 
the  highway.  Opposite,  on  your  right,  you  will  see 
the  buildings  of  the  Rancho  de  Gutierrez.  You 
cannot  lose  your  way.  Without  presuming,  I  might 
mention  that  you  will  not  find  Don  Diego  at  home. 
He  has  been  in  Mexico  City  these  many  months." 

"Yes,  I  know,  kind  father.  He  is  returning 
shortly,"  the  stranger  replied.  "Thank  you  for 
your  good  offices,  and  may  the  blessings  of  God  and 
his  saints  be  upon  you." 

The  rider  leaned  from  his  saddle  and  dropped  a 
coin  into  the  padre's  outstretched  hand.  With  the 
holy  man's  blessing  upon  him,  he  spurred  his  horse 
and  soon  left  the  priest  far  behind. 

Reaching  the  ridge  of  the  hill  pointed  out  to  him 
by  the  friar,  the  man  halted  his  horse  and  stood 
for  a  moment  gazing  out  over  the  surrounding  coun 
try — a  broad  expanse  of  beautiful  land.  For  as 
far  as  his  eyes  could  see,  there  was  rolling  country, 


108  SUZANNA 


dotted  here  and  there  with  greenish-colored  patches, 
but  for  the  most  part  barren,  except  for  wild  grass 
and  mesquite. 

To  his  right  were  moderately  high  hills,  sloping 
upward  until  their  brownish  tips  kissed  the  sky; 
vast  herds  of  cattle  wandering  sluggishly  over  them. 

To  his  left,  moving  objects,  a  mile  or  so  distant, 
caught  his  eye,  and  he  inspected  them  carefully. 
Shortly,  he  made  them  out  to  be  mounted  men 
driving  before  them  a  herd  of  horses.  They  were 
converging  upon  a  shallow  draw  beside  the  road 
from  which  a  dust  cloud  rose  already.  Sending  hig 
horse  into  a  hand-gallop,  the  stranger  soon  drew 
close  enough  to  see  what  went  forward. 

A  large  corral  had  been  constructed  here  beside 
the  road,  and  to  it  Don  Fernando's  vaqueros  now 
brought  the  unbroken  horses  which  had  roamed 
the  range  since  the  preceding  fall.  A  smother  of 
dust  and  the  pungent  smell  of  sweaty  leather  filled 
the  air.  Sefior  Gutierrez  was  in  Monterey,  so  his 
retainers  made  a  holiday  of  the  horse-breaking. 
Whenever  the  dust  lifted,  their  grinning  faces  could 
be  seen  ringed  around  the  corral  fence. 

Young  Ramon  stood  back  some  distance  from 
the  fence,  busy  with  a  string  of  figures.  The 


A  STRANGER  IS  MADE  WELCOME   109 

stranger's  eyes  singled  him  out  at  once.  Ramon, 
however,  was  not  awrare  of  him.  The  peons,  though, 
cast  many  surreptitious  glances  at  the  imposing 
newcomer. 

Ramon  had  taken  his  stand  beside  a  hollow  log, 
and  what  was  the  stranger's  surprise  to  see  a  slen 
der  arm  shoot  out  from  within  the  log  and  toss 
a  handful  of  dirt  at  him!  Watching,  the  man  saw 
Ramon  start  and  look  downward.  The  scene  was 
repeated  several  times.  Ramon  glared  with  an 
noyance  at  the  nearest  man,  but  found  nothing  to 
convict  him. 

Additional  vaqueros  with  still  another  string  of 
horses  swept  down  from  the  hills.  Both  Ramon  and 
the  man  at  the  roadside  followed  them  as  they  came 
on.  Suddenly,  several  of  the  riders  uttered  a  cry, 
and  breaking  into  a  wild  gallop  swung  toward  the 
corral.  The  watchers  were  not  long  in  seeing  the 
reason  for  this.  The  men  had  forced  a  young  coyote 
from  cover  and  they  were  after  him  now  with  the 
laudable  purpose  of  roping  him. 

The  peons  sent  up  a  cry  of  joy  as  they  caught 
the  spirit  of  the  chase.  Their  noise  but  added  to 
the  poor  animal's  confusion,  and  losing  his  head 
the  coyote  dashed  directly  toward  the  corral. 


110  SUZANNA 


A  coyote  will  not  take  refuge  in  a  hollow  log  or 
stump  when  possessed  of  his  native  cunning,  but 
this  was  a  young  pup,  and  whatever  cunning  he 
was  born  to  had  left  him.  The  log  beside  which 
Ramon  had  stood  caught  his  eye,  and  with  a  bound 
he  was  at  it,  wriggling  his  way  into  its  protecting 
embrace. 

A  scream  broke  from  the  other  end  of  the  log 
almost  simultaneously.  A  second  later  a  human 
being  scrambled  into  view  and  dashed  away  in  the 
direction  of  the  caserio.  The  crowd  howled  its 
pleasure.  Ramon  shook  his  head  as  he  recognized 
the  fleeing  figure.  It  was  Suzanna! 

"Esa  chica  es  inso portable,"  the  boy  muttered 
to  himself,  and  with  truth  it  seemed  that  Suzanna 
had  indeed  become  unmanageable  as  the  day  for 
her  departure  for  San  Luis  Bautista  drew  near. 

As  much  to  hide  his  own  chagrin  as  to  turn  the 
crowd's  mind  from  the  rapidly  disappearing  girl, 
Ramon  sent  his  men  to  their  places  in  preparation 
for  the  coming  herd.  For  the  time  being,  he  was 
reconciled  to  having  Suzanna  sent  to  the  Mission. 
She  should  not  have  ventured  to  the  corral,  and 
her  embarrassment  could  not  r7e  greater  than  his. 


A  STRANGER  IS  MADE  WELCOME  111 

With  flashing  eyes,  and  the  bit  of  the  devil  in  his 
teeth,  he  flung  himself  into  the  work  at  hand. 

Dressed  as  he  was,  he  seemed  surprisingly  thin 
and  narrow  about  the  hips.  It  is  a  way  with  boys 
raised  in  the  saddle.  He  elected  to  tame  a  wild- 
eyed  piebald  cayuse,  which  had  been  saddled  only 
after  a  bad  twenty  minutes.  With  a  wave  of  his 
hand,  he  ordered  his  vaqueros  to  let  go.  A  flying 
leap  landed  him  squarely  in  the  heavy  saddle.  For 
a  second  the  battle  was  his;  but  the  horse  had  only 
been  stunned  by  the  suddenness  of  his  action.  With 
an  angry  snort  the  animal  leaped  into  the  air  and 
came  down  stiffly  upon  all  fours.  It  is  a  back- 
breaking  experience  for  the  rider.  Ramon  clung 
on,  and  with  his  spurs  straightened  out  the  horse. 

The  spectators  applauded  vociferously  as  the 
boy  sent  the  animal  round  and  round  the  corral, 
meeting  every  trick  the  horse  tried.  Ramon  was  no 
mean  rider  and  inside  of  forty  minutes  he  had  sub 
dued  the  animal  to  the  point  of  being  able  to  mount 
him  without  having  him  buck. 

The  boy  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  handsome 
stranger,  and  recognizing  an  audience,  had  done 
his  best,  as  is  the  way  with  youth.  The  fellow's 
devil-may-care  swagger  had  quite  won  him.  As  he 


112  SUZANNA 


left  the  corral,  Ramon  saw  the  man  bow  to  him. 
Returning  his  greeting,  he  addressed  the  stranger. 

"My  compliments,"  the  latter  murmured. 
"From  experience,  I  know  that  the  proper  breaking 
of  a  horse  is  solely  a  matter  of  touch, — an  art  in 
itself.  Allow  me  to  introduce  myself,  sir:  I  am 
Juan  Montesoro,  of  Mexico  City,  dubbed  Pancho  for 
short,  by  those  who  know  me." 

"You  honor  me,  sir,"  the  boy  replied.  "I  am 
Ramon,  the  eldest  son  of  Don  Fernando  Gutierrez. 
I  take  it,  you  are  a  stranger  in  this  land." 

"I  am,  indeed!  Was  that  piebald  the  last  of 
the  remuda?" 

"No.  We  have  some  fifteen  ahead  of  us,  but 
only  one  a  trouble-maker, — that  gray  with  the  lop 


ears." 


Ramon  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face  as 
he  surveyed  the  animal  about  which  he  had  just 
spoken.  It  was  unbearably  hot  for  so  late  in  the 
year.  The  men  had  saddled  another  horse,  and  he 
raised  clouds  of  dust  as  he  tore,  riderless,  around 
the  corral.  A  lariat  swished  through  the  air,  and 
the  horse  went  down.  Vargas,  the  hacienda's  best 
vaquero,  was  upon  him  when  he  reared  erect. 

This  work  was  hard,  dangerous,  but  these  men 


A  STRANGER  IS  MADE  WELCOME   113 

accepted  it  as  an  adventure.  Vargas  soon  led  his 
mount  from  the  corral,  and  Ramon  and  Montesoro 
saw  the  lop-eared  gray  singled  out  for  his  turn. 
The  boy  voiced  a  foreboding  grunt  as  he  watched 
his  men  approach  the  horse. 

"Is  he  so  bad?"  Montesoro  asked. 

"He  threw  the  best  of  us  yesterday  afternoon. 
The  horse  has  got  the  devil  in  him.  But  for  a 
lucky  leap,  Vargas,  our  best  man,  would  have 
been  dashed  to  death  against  the  fence  " 

Montesoro  studied  the  gray  for  another  minute. 
Then: 

"I'll  break  that  horse  for  you,  if  you'll  permit 
me,  Senor  Gutierrez." 

The  offer  came  as  so  great  a  surprise  to  Ramon 
that  he  looked  at  the  other  dumbly  for  a  second. 
At  last: 

"It  is  no  easy  task,  senor.  I  wonder  if  you  real 
ize  what  a  mistake  would  cost?" 

Montesoro  nodded  his  head.  "I  assure  you,  I  am 
no  fool.  I  have  yet  to  see  the  horse  that  could  throw 
me.  Have  I  your  permission?" 

Ramon  had  half -hoped  that  the  stranger  would 
insist,  for  naturally  he  was  human  enough  to  want 
to  see  the  mettle  of  this  dashing  caballero.  As  you 


114  SUZANNA 


wish,"  he  answered,  then:  "I  warn  you,  keep  him 
away  from  the  fence." 

Vargas  was  none  too  well  pleased  at  hearing  that 
he  was  not  to  be  given  a  chance  to  redeem  himself 
for  yesterday's  fiasco.  With  bad  grace  he  held 
the  hat  and  jacket  which  Montesoro  handed  to  him. 

Four  others  got  the  gray  into  the  corral  and 
threw  him.  Montesoro  shouted  instructions  as  they 
struggled  to  put  on  a  saddle.  The  feat  was  ac 
complished  finally,  and  with  a  cry  to  stand  clear, 
the  stranger  leaped  to  the  gray's  back. 

Ramon  had  not  underestimated  the  horse.  Whirl 
ing,  kicking,  bucking,  the  gray  careened  around  the 
corral.  Straight  up  into  the  air  he  reared,  and  al 
though  the  stranger  ripped  him  with  his  spurs,  he 
did  not  flatten  out.  But  these  were  only  parlor 
tricks.  When  they  failed,  the  horse  began  bucking 
in  earnest.  He  stood,  stiff-legged,  and  bucked 
from  the  tip  of  his  tail  to  the  end  of  his  nose,  in 
whip-snapping,  back-breaking  lunges. 

The  rider  held  on,  and  shrieked  to  goad  the  horse 
further.  Again  and  again  the  gray  tried  this.  It 
availed  nothing.  The  air  grew  so  heavy  with  dust 
that  man  and  beast  were  hidden  from  view  tempo 
rarily.  The  horse  snorted  in  rage.  Up,  and  up,  he 


A  STRANGER  IS  MADE  WELCOME   115 

reared,  until  even  the  wise  Montesoro  thought  he 
was  going  over  upon  his  back. 

In  a  flash  the  horse  came  down,  and  like  light 
ning,  dashed  for  the  fence.  The  gray's  bloodshot 
eyes  rolled.  It  was  apparent  that  if  he  could  not 
buck  the  man  off,  he  would  crush  him  to  death 
against  the  fence.  Ramon  yelled  for  him  to  jump. 

Vargas'  lip  curled.  Now  they  would  see  the  stuff 
of  the  man! 

The  stranger  was  alive  to  his  danger.  He  made 
no  effort  to  turn  the  horse;  but  instead,  with  grace 
and  a  flourish,  he  swung  his  inside  leg  over  the 
pommel.  The  cinches  were  tight;  the  saddle  held. 
The  gray  crashed  into  the  fence  and  rocked  from 
the  impact.  With  a  badly  bruised  shoulder  for  his 
trouble,  he  backed  off,  and  like  a  charging  bull 
tried  it  again.  But  the  man's  eye  was  too  quick  for 
the  horse.  Always,  with  a  second  to  spare,  he  was 
free,  and  daring  the  animal  to  do  its  worst. 

From  plunging  into  the  fence,  the  horse  changed 
its  tactics  to  racing  alongside  it,  hoping  to  brush 
off  his  tormenter.  With  all  of  his  mighty  speed  he 
dashed  around  the  corral  until  he  was  winded. 
Panting  and  heaving,  he  came  to  a  broken  halt,  his 
head  swinging  from  side  to  side. 


116  SUZANNA 


It  became  Montesoro's  turn  then.  With  quirt  and 
spur  he  made  the  pace.  Sweat  and  lather  dripped 
from  the  gray.  He  was  thoroughly  beaten.  But 
the  man  lashed  him  on.  It  was  cruel! 

Suzanna  had  returned  to  the  scene  of  the  horse- 
breaking  astride  a  ragged-looking  pony,  daring 
with  eyes  and  lips  a  repetition  of  the  laughter  with 
which  the  crowd  had  bidden  her  godspeed  an  hour 
before.  The  sight  of  the  dashing  cavalier,  who 
outrode  Don  Fernando's  vaqueros  with  seeming 
ease,  caused  her  to  eye  her  tomboy  attire  dis 
paragingly. 

Ramon  had  not  seen  Suzanna,  so  intently  had  he 
been  watching  the  man  in  the  corral.  He  held  up 
his  hand  now  for  the  stranger  to  stop.  The  gray 
was  being  punished  needlessly.  As  the  boy  sig 
naled,  a  shout  of  applause  rang  out;  the  rider  had 
brought  the  horse  to  a  slithering  stand  directly  in 
front  of  where  Suzanna  sat  her  pony.  With  a 
sweep  of  his  arm  he  bowed  to  the  ground.  The  ap 
plause  increased.  Montesoro  had  used  showman 
ship  of  a  sort  these  emotional  children  could  un 
derstand. 

Vargas  led  away  the  gray.  Suzanna  shivered  as 
she  saw  its  torn,  bleeding  mouth.  The  stranger's 


A  STRANGER  IS  MADE  WELCOME  117 

horsemanship  had  awed  her,  but  her  eyes  flashed 
now  as  the  man  stood  before  her  smiling. 

Montesoro  had  caught  that  flash  of  her  eyes  and 
the  thought  behind  it.  He  grinned.  He  believed 
that  nothing  succeeded  so  well  with  women  as  a 
heavy  hand.  He  assayed  Suzanna  more  rapidly 
than  other  men  had  been  wont  to.  He  read  the 
impudence  in  her  tilted  lips,  the  roguishness  in  her 
eyes,  and  because  his  experience  with  women  was 
wide,  he  drew  upon  his  ego  to  answer  unhesitat 
ingly  many  other  questions  about  her.  Enough, 
that  she  had  seen  him  flay  the  horse.  She  would  not 
forget  that.  And  though  evidently  a  peon,  he  found 
her  very  attractive. 

"A  girl  could  ride  that  gray,  now,"  he  said  to 
her  without  further  ado. 

Suzanna  was  not  slow  to  retort. 

"Why  did  you  break  his  heart?"  she  snapped. 
"Better  that  he  run  wild  on  the  range  than  be  the 
hang-dog  he  is  now." 

Montesoro  smiled  admiringly  at  Ler. 

"No  one  has  ever  broken  you — yet,  have  they?" 
he  asked  his  question  with  all  the  intimacy  he  could 
put  into  his  voice. 


118  SUZANNA 


Suzanna  laughed,  but  points  of  fire  flared  in 
her  eyes.  Tauntingly  she  said: 

"Perhaps  you  would  like  to  try,  eh?" 

The  stranger  did  not  put  his  answer  into  words, 
but  he  told  himself  that  he  knew  the  way  of  these 
hot-heads.  Give  them  time  and  a  free-hand,  and 
they  would  come  to  book  as  easily  as  the  shy  and 
demure  ones. 

Ramon  came  up  then,  and  his  appearance  put 
an  end  to  the  little  scene.  The  boy  had  been  im 
pressed  by  the  bit  of  skill  and  daring  the  tall  stran 
ger  had  shown.  Glancing  at  him  now,  he  saw 
him  smiling,  unruffled,  and  rather  envied  the  man. 

The  boy  was  thoroughly  annoyed  with  Suzanna 
for  having  ventured  back  to  the  corral,  and  with 
out  meeting  her  eyes  he  offered  his  arm  to  the 
stranger  and  led  him  toward  his  horse. 

Suzanna  bit  her  lips  angrily  at  this,  but  some 
one  had  dislodged  the  coyote  from  his  hiding  place 
and  she  found  amusement  enough  in  the  chase 
which  followed  to  soon  forget  Ramon's  treatment. 

"I  suppose  you  are  bound  for  Monterey,"  the 
boy  said  to  the  stranger  as  they  reached  the  road 
side. 


A  STRANGER  IS  MADE  WELCOME   119 

"Yes,  eventually,"  the  man  declared.  "Califor 
nia  appeals  to  me.  I  rather  expect  to  settle  here." 

"Well,"  Ramon  exclaimed  hospitably,  "if  you 
are  in  no  great  haste  why  not  tarry  awhile?  Allow 
me  to  extend  the  courtesy  of  the  hacienda  to  you. 
My  father  will  make  you  most  welcome." 

Montesoro  was  quite  moved  by  this  show  of 
friendship. 

"You  but  prove  the  tales  I  have  heard  of  Cali 
fornia,"  he  said  graciously.  "Where  else  in  the 
New  World  would  a  stranger  be  shown  such  kind 
ness?  To  a  certainty,  I  should  be  much  pleased  to 
accept  your  hospitality.  I  trust  I  disarrange  no 
plans  of  yours." 

"Perish  the  thought.  We  see  all  too  few  new 
faces.  Vargas  can  manage  here;  let  us  go  on  to  the 
caserio.  I  presume  you  have  friends  somewhere  in 
the  province?" 

"Only  one;  a  lady  whom  I  met  in  Mexico, — the 
charming  daughter  of  Don  Diego  de  Sola." 

"Chiquita  de  Sola?"  Ramon  exclaimed  ques- 
tioningly,  and  in  evident  surprise. 

"But  of  course  you  would  know  her,"  Montesoro 
declared.  "A  friar  informed  me  this  morning  that 
your  hacienda  adjoined  her  father's  rancho." 


120  SUZANNA 


"Know  her?"  the  boy  said  musingly.  "Indeed! 
We  have  been  betrothed  since  childhood." 

It  was  Pancho  Montesoro's  turn  to  be  surprised. 
Chiquita  had  never  mentioned  any  such  embarrass 
ing  entanglement  to  him.  His  eyes  narrowed 
menacingly  as  he  looked  away.  With  a  silent  curse, 
he  asked  himself  if  he  had  made  this  trip  for 
nothing.  This  boy's  father  was  reputed  to  be  one 
of  the  wealthiest  men  in  California.  How  was  he, 
a  penniless  adventurer,  to  compete  with  him? 

He  had  counted  most  heavily  on  capturing  the 
girl,  and  thereby  gaining  access  to  the  De  Sola 
fortune.  He  had  been  quite  at  ease,  financially  as 
well  as  otherwise,  in  Mexico  City.  Bull-fighting 
as  a  sport  was  yet  to  be  introduced,  in  a  profes 
sional  way,  in  the  Province.  There  was  no  work  at 
hand  for  him  here.  Every  plan  he  had  made  was 
lost  to  him  if  he  failed  to  win  Chiquita. 

While  the  flirtation  between  them  had  ripened 
into  love  with  the  girl,  Montesoro  had  only  found 
her  beautiful,  interesting, — and  a  means  to  fortune. 
So  while  what  Chiquita  represented  had  become  a 
matter  of  vital  interest,  the  girl  herself  disturbed 
him  not  at  all.  He  found  it  possible  to  hate  her  for 
having  compromised  him  in  this  fashion. 


A  STRANGER  IS  MADE  WELCOME  121 

"It's  about  what  one  should  expect  from  an  aris 
tocrat,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  and  so  immeas 
urable  was  his  ego  that  he  saw  nothing  to  smile  at 
in  his  thought.  But  while  Montesoro's  chagrin  was 
great,  he  was  gambler  enough  to  keep  his  emotion 
from  the  boy.  With  seeming  sincerity  he  addressed 
himself  to  Ramon. 

"You  are  to  be  congratulated,"  he  said.  "Your 
future  wife  is  one  of  the  most  queenly  women  I 
have  ever  had  the  honor  of  knowing." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  RULE  OF  A  GENTLEMAN 

PANCHO  MONTESGRO  found  life  at  the  Hacienda 
de  Gutierrez  most  pleasant.  Don  Fernando  ac 
cepted  him  at  face  value,  and  Dona  Luz  saw  in 
him  only  a  most  agreeable  young  man. 

Suzanna  had  not  left  for  the  Mission  as  yet, 
and  she  found  opportunities  for  comparing  the 
man  with  Ramon  and  the  hold  Perez.  The  new 
comer  suffered  but  little  in  this.  Her  inexperi 
enced  eyes  being  quite  dazzled  by  his  graces. 
Whenever  he  smiled  at  her,  little  chills  raced  down 
her  spine.  She  seemed  caught  up  and  drawn  to 
him.  Several  times  she  had  almost  obeyed  the 
impulse;  but,  unsophisticated  as  she  was,  intuition 
whispered  to  her  to  beware  of  the  fellow.  Being 
a  woman,  Suzanna's  curiosity  quite  outweighed  her 
caution,  and  she  alternately  advanced  and  retreated 
in  the  flirtation  Montesoro  connived  to  keep  alive. 

On  the  fourth  night  of  his  stay  at  the  hacienda, 
he  strolled  in  the  shadows  of  the  servants'  patio, 

122 


THE  RULE  OF  A  GENTLEMAN       123 

thrumming  his  guitar.  The  hour  was  so  late  that 
he  openly  dared  this  loss  of  caste. 

Suzanna,  wrapped  in  her  mantilla,  sat  in  the 
deeper  shadow  of  the  doorway  which  led  into  the 
granary.  She  saw  him  pass  without  suspecting  her 
presence.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  call  him,  and 
she  half -raised  her  hand,  only  to  let  it  drop  again, 
caution  bidding  her  beware. 

The  decision  was  taken  from  her,  however,  for 
as  slight  as  her  movement  had  been,  the  man  had 
noticed  it,  and  turning,  he  sat  down  upon  the  step 
below  her. 

He  rolled  a  cigarette  in  silence,  feeling  sure  that 
he  impressed  her  with  the  intimacy  of  the  situation 
by  his  very  lack  of  speech.  The  cigarette  lighted, 
he  leaned  towards  her,  and  looking  up  into  her  face 
with  veiled  eyes,  he  whispered: 

"Mi  corazon  pal  pita  per  ti;  no  oyes?"  his  hand 
closing  over  hers. 

It  was  a  pretty  speech:  "My  heart  throbs  for 
you;  can't  you  hear?" 

Suzanna  had  always  found  love  most  pleasant, 
but  her  throat  went  dry  now,  as  his  flesh  touched 
hers.  With  an  effort  she  murmured: 

"Cdllate!    Someone  will  hear." 


124  SUZANNA 


Montesoro  continued  to  gaze  at  her  intently, 
drinking  his  fill  of  her  excitement.  With  nothing 
short  of  artistry  he  turned  from  her  and  picked  up 
his  guitar  and  struck  off  into  a  lilting  melody. 

His  keen  ears  caught  the  uneasy  sigh  which  es 
caped  her  lips  as  the  song  ended.  Suzanna  made 
to  rise,  but  his  strong  arm  reached  out  and  caught 
her  around  the  waist. 

"Do  I  sing  so  illy,  little  bird?"  he  whispered. 
''  Tis  late,"  Suzanna  protested  as  she  fought  to 
disengage  his  arm. 

The  man  smiled  at  her  effort,  and  pulling  him 
self  up  a  step  so  that  he  sat  beside  her,  he  plucked 
a  rose  from  a  bush  which  twined  about  the  door, 
and  chucked  her  under  the  chin  with  it.  Involun 
tarily,  Suzanna  turned  up  her  face  so  that  her  lips 
were  close  to  his.  Before  she  could  recover,  he 
drew  her  close  to  him  and  held  her  helpless. 

"Thou  most  beautiful  girl  in  the  world,"  he 
murmured.  "Thine  eyes  are  as  the  most  precious 
stones;  thy  hair  as  sheer  as  finest  silk;  thy  brow 
fairer  than  any  gentle  sun  or  whispering  wind  ever 
kissed.  Thy  lips  are  more  perfect  than  a  cupid's 
bow,  more  colorful  than  a  pomegranate." 

It  was  his  favorite  love-speech.     Chiquita  de 


THE  RULE  OF  A  GENTLEMAN       125 

Sola  had  answered  to  the  tug  of  it.  Surely  this 
poor  peon  could  not  deny  its  appeal.  Great  was 
his  suprise,  then,  to  see  Suzanna's  dark,  lustrous 
eyes  molten  with  rage. 

"What,  amor  mia,  you  are  angry?  You  who 
I  liken  unto  a  rose  blooming  in  a  dark  corner  of 
some  remote  rancho,  w7ith  only  an  occasional  kiss 
from  the  kindly  sun?  True,  you  bloom,  but  not 
half  so  fully  as  you  would  did  the  sun  but  kiss  you 
continually." 

"Yes;  but  a  rose  continually  kissed  by  the  sun 
soon  withers  and  dies,"  Suzanna  exclaimed  vehe 
mently.  "Unhand  me!" 

"Think  you  then  that  the  sun  would  not  distem 
per  his  rays  did  you  but  come  within  his  vision? 
No,  no,  querida!  You  are  out  of  place  here. 
Mexico  City  with  its  beautiful  gardens,  its  bowers, 
its  gay  life,  its  bull-fights, — there  do  you  belong, 
Suzanna — with  me!" 

"So?"  a  voice  boomed  in  unctious  sweetness  as 
its  owner  stepped  forth  from  his  concealment  in 
back  of  the  flower  garden.  "Your  tongue  is  very 
glib,  senor;  but  I  am  constrained  to  doubt  its 
veracity." 

Montesoro  taken  at  such  a  mean  advantage,  re- 


126  SUZANNA 


leased  Suzanna  and  got  to  his  feet  stealthily.  Too 
many  times  in  his  checkered  career  had  he  ex 
tricated  himself  from  like  circumstance  to  be  dis 
countenanced  now.  The  man  before  him  was  a 
stranger,  but  undoubtedly  a  jealous  lover.  Pancho 
knew  how  to  impress  his  sort.  A  show  of  prowess 
had  opened  the  way  more  than  once.  So,  apparent 
ly  without  design,  he  drew  his  knife,  and  singling 
out  a  moonlight  tipped  rosebud  which  clung  to 
a  post  some  fifteen  feet  distant,  he  flipped  his 
blade  toward  it  and  pierced  the  flower  to  the  heart. 

The  intruder  turned  his  face  then  so  that  the 
light  caught  it.  Suzanna  gasped  as  she  recognized 
the  bandit,  Benito  Perez.  The  outlaw  smiled  at  her 
as  he  caught  sight  of  her  tear-filled  eyes. 

"No  llores, — don't  cry — little  one,"  he  reas 
sured  her.  The  braggadocio  and  challenge  of 
Montesoro's  act  was  not  lost  on  the  bandit.  He 
had  lived  too  long  in  Old  Spain  not  to  realize  its 
significance.  And  yet,  with  the  greatest  indiffer 
ence,  he  turned  his  back  on  the  man,  and  moving 
so  that  the  distance  between  himself  and  the  post 
was  much  greater,  he  drew  his  knife  and  sent  it 
whistling  through  the  air,  nor  waited  to  see  the 
quality  of  his  aim.  A  dull  thud  followed  as  the 


THE  RULE  OF  A  GENTLEMAN       127 

knife  struck  and  pierced  the  hilt  of  the  other's 
weapon. 

With  varying  degrees  of  emotion  Pancho  and 
Suzanna  gazed  at  the  quivering  knives. 

"Sefior,"  Perez  said  in  tones  which  carried  the 
chilling  coldness  of  death,  "the  inviolate  rule  of  a 
gentleman  is  never  to  take  advantage  of  his  posi 
tion  as  one.  You  are  a  guest  here." 

"More  than  I  dare  you  can  say,"  Montesoro  an 
swered  angrily.  "I  haven't  the  honor  of  your  ac 
quaintance." 

"For  your  surmise,"  Perez  muttered,  " — it  is 
correct.  I  am  here  without  invitation.  And  cer 
tain  it  is  that  I  would  honor  you  in  giving  you 
acquaintance.  I  am  Benito  Perez!" 

"The  outlaw?"  Pancho  questioned  unbelievingly. 

"Of  my  many  titles  it  is  the  one  I  like  the  least; 
but  I  do  not  deny  it." 

"Now  that  you  have  turned  protector,"  the  torea 
dor  said  surlily,  "you  can  add  another  to  your  long 
list.  You  have  had  good  care  to  stay  clear  of  me 
as  I  have  ridden  about  the  rancho  properly  armed." 

"True,"  Perez  grinned.  "Wasted  effort  ever 
galled  me.  I  have  no  time  for  empty  pockets.  Al 
low  me,  now,  to  bid  you  good-night." 


128  SUZANNA 


Perez  lifted  a  hand  toward  the  casa.  Montesoro 
snarled  an  oath  at  what  he  knew  to  be  a  command. 
"It  grows  late,"  the  robber-captain  cautioned.  The 
syllables  clicked  off  his  tongue.  Pancho  hesitated 
no  longer. 

When  he  was  gone,  the  bandit  turned  to  Suzanna. 
"And  you,  little  one,  art  surprised  to  find  me 
Perez?" 

"Your  mogador  betrayed  you,"  she  answered. 
"Much  ado  I  had  explaining  how  I  came  by  it.  But 
your  coming  here — are  you  mad?" 

"You  hold  the  act  so  rash,  then?" 

"Doubly  so,  now.  That  coward  will  raise  a  cry 
against  you.  The  pack  will  be  upon  you!" 

"And  yet  I  do  not  flee,"  Perez  said  softly.  "I 
have  had  tales  of  this  torero.  He  convicts  him 
self!  His  words  are  as  empty  as  his  purse.  He 
does  well  to  mock  me  with  the  word  'protector.'  Is 
there  no  one  here  to  see  through  the  man?  I  am 
afraid  for  you." 

Suzanna  stared  at  him  speechlessly  at  this  show 
of  solicitude  in  her  behalf. 

"Truly,"  she  said  when  she  had  regained  the 
use  of  her  tongue,  "you  almost  make  me  forget 
that  when  last  we  met  you,  yourself,  were  none  too 


THE  RULE  OF  A  GENTLEMAN       129 

mindful  of  my  innocence.  Hast  our  robber  turned 
friar?" 

Suzanna  did  not  see  the  man's  mouth  set  or  the 
look  of  sadness  which  crept  into  his  eyes  as  he 
bowed  his  head.  The  next  instant,  however,  Su- 
zanna's  fingers  gripped  the  man's  arm.  Perez  had 
snapped  erect.  A  cry  had  rang  out  from  the  casa: 

"Socorro!— Help— El  bandido  Perez!" 

"Go  at  once!"  Suzanna  urged  excitedly.  "A 
dozen  men  will  answer  him." 

"First,  I  shall  see  you  safe  from  gossip.  Hasten 
while  I  hold  the  ladder." 

Stairways  were  a  luxury  confined  at  this  early 
date  to  the  houses  of  the  masters.  The  workers 
on  the  hacienda  ascended  to  their  quarters  above 
the  granary  by  ladder.  Perez  steadied  the  one 
which  the  girl  used,  and  half-lifting  her,  he  set 
her  upon  a  rung  waist-high  with  himself  and  sent 
her  scrambling  upward.  But  she  had  not  reached 
the  window  which  led  into  her  room  before  the 
outlaw  heard  himself  hailed,  and  turning,  he  found 
Ramon  facing  him. 

"It  is  you,  then!"  the  boy  cried.  "Stand  ready 
to  defend  yourself!" 

Ramon  had  been  the  first  to  answer  Pancho's  cry 


130  SUZAXNA 


and  hear  his  story.  Bidding  his  guest  wait  to  di 
rect  the  others  to  the  scene,  the  boy  had  dashed  into 
the  patio.  Perez  did  not  raise  his  voice  as  he 
addressed  him. 

Tor  my  presence  here,  you  shall  have  whatever 
satisfaction  you  may  demand;  but  not  until  this 
child  is  safe  from  the  scandal  mongering  tongues 
of  those  who  soon  will  be  here.  For,  peon  or  not, 
I  hold  that  she  is  a  lady.  Would  you  have  her 
made  party  to  a  braid?'' 

Ramon  had  not  forgotten  the  taunts  Perez  had 
tossed  at  him  the  day  of  the  attack  on  the  wagon, 
nor  had  he  forgiven  the  man  for  his  attentions  to 
Suzanna.  Hot  anger  had  consumed  rtfm  upon  find 
ing  them  together  here  in  the  patio  of  his  own 
home. 

He  cooled  perceptibly  as  he  saw  Perez  wave 
Suzanna  on.  The  man's  words  were  not  in  keep 
ing  with  the  conduct  Montesoro  had  accused  him  of 
in  his  hurried  tale.  Ramon  f elt  rebuffed, — a  crude 
lout,  whereas  the  man  before  him  bore  himself  as 
a  cavalier. 

Not  until  Suzanna  had  stepped  through  the  win 
dow  did  the  outlaw  turn  to  the  boy.  Ramon  had 
caught  the  sound  of  hurrying  feet  and  he  knew 


THE  RULE  OF  A  GENTLEMAN       131 

that  in  another  minute  the  patio  would  be  overflow 
ing  with  men.  Perez  had  drawn  his  sword  and 
stood  ready  to  defend  himself.  Surely  the  man 
could  not  be  deaf  to  that  sound  of  scurrying  feet. 
And  yet,  he  waited  with  seeming  unconcern  for  the 
boy  to  raise  his  blade. 

"You  are  more  the  don  than  I,"  Ramon  said  to 
him.  "I  bow  my  head  in  shame  that  it  was  neces 
sary  for  you  to  remind  me  of  my  conduct  as  a 
gentleman.  Lower  your  weapon  and  go." 

"What  a  lad!"  Perez  murmured  to  himself  as  he 
gazed  at  Ramon.  He  made  to  turn,  then,  toward 
the  arch  which  led  to  the  road,  but  as  he  did  so 
Pancho  and  the  others  confronted  him. 

Without  hesitation,  Ramon  leaped  to  the  rob 
ber's  side.  "Stand  back!"  he  cried.  "This  man 
goes  untouched." 

"Is  he  not  Perez,  the  bandit?"  Pancho  demanded. 
"You  do  not  mean  that  you  are  going  to  allowr  such 
a  rich  prize  to  slip  through  your  fingers?" 

"He  goes  free!"  Ramon  repeated. 

Montesoro  drew  back  dumf  ounded.  A  surprised 
murmur  broke  from  the  others,  also.  The  boy 
walked  toward  them,  and  as  he  did  so,  he  came 
face  to  face  with  the  knives  the  two  men  had 


132  SUZANNA 


thrown.  A  question  in  his  eyes,  he  looked  at 
Perez. 

"The  one  in  your  hand  is  mine,"  the  outlaw  ad 
mitted. 

He  reached  out  for  it  as  Ramon  offered  it  to 
him. 

"And  this  other  one,  imbedded  in  the  post, — 
how  came  it  here?" 

Perez  paused  before  he  replied.  The  crowd  had 
caught  the  question  and  waited  for  the  answer. 

"Perhaps  your  guest  will  enlighten  you,"  he 
drawled  provokingly.  And  then,  stiffly  erect,  he 
marched  to  the  gate  and  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  HOUSE  IS  PUT  IN  ORDER 

THE  effect  of  this  affair  was  to  cast  a  shadow 
over  the  heretofore  smiling  hacienda.  Suzanna  re 
fused — absolutely — to  tell  Ramon  what  had  hap 
pened,  and  his  guest  not  volunteering  any  informa 
tion,  the  boy  felt  constrained  not  to  insist. 

Don  Fernando  had  received  a  very  unsatisfac 
tory  account  of  the  bandit's  visit,  and  he  sensed 
that  something  moved  under  the  surface  in  connec 
tion  with  the  episode. 

Suspicion  is  always  an  excellent  instrument  of 
torture,  and  it  proved  itself  so  in  this  instance. 
Fortunately,  the  following  day  brought  news  of 
great  moment  to  all  at  the  Rancho  de  Gutierrez, — 
Don  Diego,  his  daughter  and  their  retinue  of  serv 
ants  were  returning! 

They  were  but  a  day's  journey  away  to  the 
south  at  present.  The  post-rider  who  brought  word 
from  them  had  passed  their  coach  at  Santa  Bar 
bara. 

133 


134  SUZANNA 


Don  Fernando  and  Dona  Luz  could  not  have  re 
ceived  more  agreeable  information.  A  hundred 
tasks  presented  themselves  immediately.  Their 
friend's  house  must  be  put  in  order  after  these 
years  of  accumulating  dust.  Delicacies  must  be 
purchased  in  Monterey  for  the  sumptuous  dinner 
with  which  their  friends  should  be  greeted.  Their 
own  house,  though  spotless  now,  must  needs  be  gone 
over  painstakingly,  for  such  is  the  way  of  human 
beings. 

Those  things  pertaining  to  her  own  home,  the 
flowers,  and  foods  to  be  prepared,  Dona  Luz  saw 
to.  Ruiz,  as  major-domo  of  the  hacienda,  trans 
mitted  Don  Fernando's  orders  to  his  servants. 

Ruiz  received  the  news  of  their  neighbors'  return 
with  a  sour  face.  He  had  been  quite  in  accord 
with  his  master  regarding  Suzanna's  education  and 
her  enforced  absence  from  the  hacienda.  The  old 
man  was  not  blind  to  Ramon's  interest  in  the  girl, 
and  he  half-suspected  the  real  reason  lying  beneath 
Don  Fernando's  magnanimous  offer  to  Suzanna. 
The  unexpected  return  of  Don  Diego  and  his 
daughter  was  very  likely  to  upset  these  plans. 

Immediately  after  giving  his  orders  in  the  scul 
lery  and  truck  garden,  Ruiz  sought  Suzanna.  He 


A  HOUSE  IS  PUT  IN  ORDER        135 

found  her  watching  Ramon,  who  was  busily  en 
gaged  in  braiding  a  horsehair  reata.  The  old  man 
bowed  to  his  young  master  and  then  spoke  to  the 
girl. 

"Get  a  jug  and  brooms,"  he  ordered,  "and  fol 
low  me." 

"But  why,  father?"  Suzanna  demanded,  loth  to 
leave. 

"Ask  no  questions,"  Ruiz  answered  sharply,  an 
noyed  at  this  impertinence  before  the  boy.  "There 
is  work  in  plenty  to  be  done  before  to-morrow." 

Some  half-dozen  servants  laden  with  brooms  and 
other  utensils  entered  the  compound  at  this  in 
stant,  and  catching  sight  of  them,  Suzanna's  eyes 
widened. 

"What  are  we  to  do?"  she  asked. 

"Don  Diego  and  his  family  return  to-morrow," 
Ruiz  replied  sharply.  "His  house  is  to  be  cleaned 
and  aired.  Come,  we  have  little  time  to  waste." 

Suzanna  and  Ramon  stared  at  each  other  in 
mute  surprise  at  this  news.  The  boy's  face  fell 
as  comprehension  came  to  him.  Something  akin 
to  terror  filled  Suzanna's  eyes. 

"Coming  home — to-morrow!"  she  gasped. 

Ruiz  ignored  her  and  said  to  Ramon: 


136  SUZANNA 


"Your  father  had  word  by  post-rider  not  half 
an  hour  ago.    The  news  must  fill  you  with  happi 


ness." 


"Why?"  Ramon  snapped  sullenly. 

"La  Sefiorita  de  Sola,  your  betrothed " 

"A  good  servant  minds  his  own  business,  Ruiz," 
Ramon  warned. 

Ruiz  took  the  rebuff  in  silence.  Turning  to  the 
waiting  servants,  he  waved  them  on,  and  then  said 
to  Suzanna: 

"See  that  you  follow  us  immediately." 
The  boy  and  the  girl  looked  at  each  other  dumbly 
when  they  were  alone.  Both  felt  that  they  had 
reached  a  crisis  in  their  lives.  As  the  days  had 
passed  without  further  word  of  her  going  to 
San  Luis  Bautista,  Suzanna  had  allowed  the  ulti 
matum  to  rest  lightly  upon  her  head.  Woman 
like  she  had  been  able  to  distill  rare  pleasure  from 
the  embroglio  in  which  Ramon  and  Pancho  had 
confronted  Perez.  She  realized  now  that  golden 
days  had  slipped  by  her  which  she  could  have 
shared  with  the  boy.  She  berated  herself  for 
having  cast  eyes  at  Montesoro.  Perez,  she  was 
forced  to  admit,  interested  her,  but  it  was  not  be 
cause  of  love  for  him. 


A  HOUSE  IS  PUT  IN  ORDER        137 

Love?  What  a  strange  thing  it  was!  She  had 
looked  forward  to  love  as  a  rightful  heritage  of  her 
sex.  Love  to  her  had  meant  happiness,  a  gladness 
of  heart  and  body;  yet  misery,  such  as  she  had 
heard  dogs  voice,  was  in  her  soul.  And  yet,  with 
womanly  instinct  she  knew  this  thing  was  love.  The 
thought  crushed  her  and  dimmed  her  eyes  with 
tears.  The  Holy  Mother's  name  escaped  her  lips 
as  she  asked  herself  why  she  had  been  born;  the 
tragedy  of  life  spreading  out  before  her  endlessly. 

In  a  flash  of  understanding  the  girl  saw  just 
how  wide  was  the  gulf  which  separated  this  man 
from  her.  To-morrow,  a  woman  who  was  his  equal 
in  everything  the  world  set  store  by,  would  come 
to  take  her  place  at  his  side.  What  chance  had 
she,  a  poor,  uneducated  peon,  beside  her? 

Ramon  almost  followed  her  train  of  thought, 
and  the  hot  blood  of  youth  flaring  up  in  him,  he 
was  minded  to  take  her  and  flee.  Chiquita  de  Sola 
was  less  than  the  dust  to  him.  Suzanna  held  the 
culmination  of  every  desire  he  had  known.  What 
did  riches  and  caste  matter?  This  was  a  new 
world, — a  new  land — men  were  done  with  the  cant 
of  kings  and  friars.  California  was  the  land  of 


138  SUZANNA 


opportunity,  of  freedom, — a  man's  future  was  what 
he  wished  to  make  it. 

Answering  this  urge,  Ramon  stepped  toward  Su- 
zanna,  eyes  flashing,  his  arms  outstretched. 

"0,  Blessed  Mother  of  God,"  she  muttered  in 
despair  as  she  sensed  the  meaning  of  those  out 
stretched  arms.  The  desire  to  rest  within  their  em 
brace  but  for  a  second  overcame  her,  but  even  as 
she  made  her  decision,  Don  Fernando  walked  into 
the  compound. 

Ramon's  teeth  sank  into  his  lips  as  he  saw  her 
turn  away  without  a  word  and  enter  the  house. 
His  arms  fell  to  his  sides,  as  he  stood  there 
stunned. 

Don  Fernando  preferred  not  to  recognize  the 
meaning  of  the  scene  he  had  interrupted.  As 
though  he  were  conveying  a  surprise,  he  acquainted 
his  son  with  the  fact  of  Don  Diego's  return. 

"Yes,  yes,  Ruiz  informed  me,"  the  boy  replied, 
going  back  to  his  task  dejectedly. 

"Your  mother  wants  you  to  go  to  Monterey  for 
certain  dainties,"  his  father  continued.  "Do  yon 
prefer  to  leave  now,  or  this  afternoon?" 

"As  mother  prefers,"  Ramon  answered.  "I  shall 
be  through  with  this  in  a  few  minutes." 


A  HOUSE  IS  PUT  IN  ORDER        139 

Suzanna  came  out  and  trudged  across  the  road 
in  the  wake  of  the  other  servants  as  father  and  son 
talked.  Their  brief  conversation  at  an  end,  Don 
Fernando  followed  her. 

His  face  was  severe  as  he  entered  the  house  of 
his  friend.  A  sadness,  which  wholly  obliterated 
the  joy  that  Don  Diego's  home-coming  had  brought, 
rested  upon  him.  How  stupid  he  had  been 
not  to  have  packed  off  Suzanna  at  once  to  San  Luis 
Bautista.  Well,  she  should  go  before  Chiquita  ar 
rived,  train  or  not. 

Ruiz  had  busied  himself  in  the  kitchen,  leaving 
part  of  the  servants  to  put  the  other  rooms  of  the 
large  house  in  order.  When  Suzanna  entered,  she 
had  found  them  more  intent  on  play  than  work. 
For  once,  she  had  no  desire  to  abet  them.  The 
merriment  ended  most  abruptly  as  Senor  Gutierrez 
strode  into  the  living-room,  his  face  red  with  rage. 
Suzanna  saw  him  glance  at  her,  and  knowing  that 
from  past  experience  he  would  blame  her  for  this 
loitering,  she  got  to  her  feet  and  ran  toward  the 
altar-room.  There  Don  Fernando  found  her. 

The  girl  had  heard  him  follow  her,  and  realiz 
ing  that  his  wrath  was  to  be  visited  on  her,  she  sank 


140  SUZANNA 


to  her  knees  and  assumed  an  attitude  of  penitent 
prayer. 

Don  Fernando  waited  for  her  to  finish  her  de 
votions.  Suzanna  exhausted  her  words  of  prayer 
before  she  arose  to  face  him. 

"Child,"  he  said  sternly.  "I  am  weary  of  your 
pranks.  We  have  little  enough  time  to  arrange  for 
my  friend's  arrival,  and  yet  you  countenance — and 
I  vow  instigated — such  conduct  as  greeted  me  when 
I  entered  this  house.  You  are  demoralizing  every 
servant  on  the  hacienda." 

"I  have  been  guilty  so  often  that  my  innocence 
this  once  is  unbelievable,  I  know,"  Suzanna  said 
sadly.  "You  have  been  too  indulgent." 

Don  Fernando  looked  at  her  shrewdly.  Truly 
this  was  a  new  Suzanna.  Overjoyed  to  find  her  so 
tractable,  he  made  to  inform  her  at  once  that  she 
went  to  the  Mission  at  sunrise. 

Amazed,  Suzanna  heard  him  out.  Horror  trans 
fixed  her  face  as  he  finished. 

"But  I  have  no  desire  for  an  education,"  she 
said  with  choking  voice.  "Please — I  do  not  want 
to  leave  here,  Don  Fernando.  I  should  die  were 
you  to  send  me  away  from  this  hacienda  where  I 
know  every  flower  and  blade  of  grass.  I  have  been 


A  HOUSE  IS  PUT  IN  ORDER        141 

so  happy  here.  I  will  work,  oh,  so  hard, — you  will 
have  no  cause  to  find  fault  with  me  if  you  will  but 
let  me  stay.  Please,  I  beg  you." 

Suzanna's  emotion  engulfed  her.  With  a  sob 
she  sank  to  her  knees,  her  tears  blinding  her  as  she 
looked  up  at  her  master. 

"Don't  send  me  away  from  you,  from  Dona  Luz, 
from  Ramon — from  my  father,"  she  implored. 
"Oh,  oh, — I  cannot  go.  Everything  that  I  know 
and — and — love  is  here.  I — I  won't  go!  I  can't!" 

"But  you  must,"  Don  Fernando  declared  firmly, 
but  not  unkindly.  "The  time  will  pass  quickly 
enough.  You  be  ready  to  go  at  sunrise.  Guara, 
the  Indian,  shall  accompany  you." 

Suzanna  continued  to  plead  with  him,  but  the 
determined  old  man  remained  firm  in  his  decision. 
Don  Fernando  left  her  to  compose  herself  in  the 
quietness  of  this  holy  room.  Upon  leaving,  he 
pulled  the  door  to,  and  Suzanna,  alone  with  her 
grief,  threw  herself  upon  the  cold  flagging  before 
the  altar  and  sobbed  piteously. 

An  hour  later  she  dragged  herself  to  her  room. 
She  had  stopped  her  tears.  Her  anger,  too,  had 
subsided.  Resignation,  hopeless  and  cold  had 
taken  its  place.  It  took  but  a  short  time  to  gather 


142  SUZANNA 


her  meager  belongings  and  make  them  ready 
against  the  morrow's  journey.  Saying  good-by  to 
Timoteo,  and  Chichi,  the  bear,  proved  a  much 
harder  task. 

Chichi  had  an  affectionate  disposition  and  he 
hugged  her  with  his  hairy  paws  as  Suzanna  petted 
him  and  whispered  little  love  words  in  his  ears. 

The  girl  saw  much  alike  in  their  situations.  She 
was  Don  Fernando's  chattel  just  as  Chichi  was 
hers.  The  bear  was  petted  and  humored;  but  a 
steel  chain  around  his  neck  marked  his  movements 
for  him.  The  sight  of  the  chain  filled  Suzanna 
with  rage.  Within  her  blazed  a  sudden  hatred  for 
all  that  was  tyrannical  and  oppressive. 

Dropping  to  her  knees,  she  unfastened  the  chain, 
and  led  the  bear  to  a  field  in  back  of  the  barns. 

"Run,  Chichi,"  she  exclaimed.  "Go  back  to 
your  hills  and  your  woods.  Far  better  that  some 
chance  hunter  should  kill  you  than  that  you  stay 
here  to  be  ordered  about  as  I  am  ordered.  Go, 
jovencito,  before  my  father  catches  you." 

The  bear  showed  no  disposition  to  embrace  his 
freedom,  and  although  Suzanna  beat  him  with  a 
stick,  he  but  circled  round  and  round  her  feet.  The 
girl  shook  her  head  sadly  as  she  realized  that  the 


A  HOUSE  IS  PUT  IN  ORDER        143 

poor  brute's  affection  for  her  outweighed  his  de 
sire  to  return  to  the  wild. 

Suzanna  had  heard  her  father  calling  her,  and 
he  approached  now.  He  saw  enough  of  her  pur 
pose  with  the  bear  to  anger  him.  Grabbing  the 
chain  from  her,  he  snapped  it  around  the  animal's 
neck. 

Don  Fernando  had  communicated  his  wishes  to 
Ruiz,  and  the  girl's  father  had  readily  agreed  to  his 
master's  plans.  The  peon  was  a  good  servant  and 
he  never  questioned  the  orders  of  his  superiors.  In 
this  instance,  however,  he  saw  the  calamity  that 
he  had  feared,  safely  averted  by  what  his  master 
proposed.  And  that,  too,  for  reasons  which  would 
have  surprised  Don  Fernando. 

Suzanna  knew  better  than  to  hope  that  Ruiz 
would  go  counter  to  Don  Fernando's  wishes.  When 
she  spoke  to  her  father  it  was  only  to  ask  him  if  he 
had  been  informed  of  what  the  morrow  held. 

"Of  course.     Have  you  packed  your  things?" 

"I  have,"  Suzanna  answered  dully.  "Does 
Ramon  know  that  I  am  leaving?" 

"He  is  on  his  way  to  Monterey.  I  do  not  know 
whether  his  father  informed  him  or  not.  You  give 
your  question  a  pointing  which  implies  that  your 


144  SUZANNA 


leaving  is  of  importance  to  our  young  master. 
Again  I  tell  you  that  you  presume.  You  would  do 
well  to  keep  your  eyes  to  your  own  kind.  Dona 
Luz  has  set  out  some  clothes  and  trinkets  for  you. 
Go  to  her  and  thank  her  as  she  deserves.  And  if  it 
pleases  you,  give  a  hand  in  the  kitchen  until  the 
bell  rings,  for  I  know  you  have  some  skill  with 
cakes." 

Suzanna  found  that  the  news  of  her  departure 
for  San  Luis  Bautista  was  common  property  in  the 
kitchen.  Caridad  and  the  other  women  saw  in 
it  but  another  manifestation  of  the  great  goodness 
of  their  master,  and  were  frankly  jealous  of  the 
grand  journey  ahead  of  Suzanna. 

The  girl  looked  at*  them  hopelessly.  What  bet 
ter  could  one  expect  from  such  fools,  she  asked 
herself.  Suzanna  was  glad  when  Dona  Luz  sent 
for  her.  Better  it  was  to  be  misunderstood  by  your 
superiors  than  by  your  equals! 

With  an  armful  of  things  from  la  sefiora's 
precious  store,  Suzanna  crossed  the  patios  to  her 
quarters  as  the  evening  bell  sounded.  As  she  did 
so,  Pancho  Montesoro  rode  in.  He  had  been  away 
from  the  house  since  early  morning,  and  Suzanna's 
old  spirit  flamed  for  a  brief  second  as  she  beheld 


A  HOUSE  IS  PUT  IN  ORDER        145 

the  man.  Naturally,  he  could  not  know  that  Chi- 
quita  de  Sola  was  returning  to-morrow.  Suzanna 
resolved  that  he  should  be  informed  immediately, 
and  by  her  in  a  manner  best  suited  to  embarrass 
him. 

Montesoro  swung  to  the  ground  in  front  of  her 
a  minute  later. 

"Well,"  he  grinned.  "What  is  the  meaning 
of  this?  Art  getting  married?" 

"From  what  do  you  infer  that?"  Suzanna  an 
swered  saucily,  " my  face  or  this  armful  of 

clothes?" 

"I  but  jested,"  Pancho  said  ingratiatingly.  "For 
the  first  time,  I  find  you  looking  sad  and  blue. 
Meet  me  to-night  and  let  me  put  a  smile  upon  your 
pretty  face." 

"You  are  so  sure  you  could?" 

"Don't  taunt  me,"  he  muttered  dramatically. 
"You  know  that  my  heart  and  soul  are  yours  alone. 
I  should  die  were  you  to  be  taken  away  from  me." 

Miserable  though  she  was,  Suzanna  could  smile 
at  this  bald  lying. 

"Death  hovers  near  you,  then,  my  dashing  lord," 
she  assured  him.  "I  leave  for  San  Luis  Bautista 
at  sunrise." 


146  SUZANNA 


"Oh,  no — no!"  the  rascal  exclaimed,  still  the 
actor. 

"It  is  all  too  true,"  Suzanna  replied  firmly. 
"But" — and  mischief  fairly  twinkled  in  her  eyes 
— "do  not  pine.  One  arrives  to-morrow  who  will 
busily  engage  thee." 

"Yes?"  Pancho  queried. 

"Your  friend,  Chiquita  de  Sola!    She  arrives  at 


noon." 


The  man  staggered,  so  great  was  his  surprise. 
Suzanna  felt  well  repaid.  Peon  she  might  be,  but 
she  had  thrown  the  name  of  a  lady  of  high  degree 
into  this  man's  face  when  his  words  of  love  to  her 
were  still  warm  upon  his  lips. 

Montesoro  saw  that  she  had  played  with  him, 
and  he  hated  her  for  it. 

"What  is  it  that  you  insinuate?"  he  demanded 
hotly.  "La  Sefiorita  de  Sola  has  my  most  pro 
found  respect." 

Suzanna  mocked  him  with  a  courtesy. 

"I  wonder,"  she  murmured  pointedly,  "if  you 
have  her  father's." 

The  girl  continued  across  the  patio  without  wait 
ing  for  an  answer.  She  knew  she  had  drawn 
blood.  The  man's  face  was  livid  as  her  trailing 


A  HOUSE  IS  PUT  IN  ORDER        147 

laugh  floated  across  the  garden.  Impotent,  he  stood 
there  and  cursed  her  beneath  his  breath.  With 
pleasure,  he  could  have  shaken  the  life  out  of  her. 

Suzanna's  elation  was  short-lived.  Supper 
proved  a  grim  jest,  and  to  escape  from  those  who 
sought  to  fill  her  with  advice,  she  sought  refuge  in 
her  room.  Sleep,  however,  was  impossible.  Later, 
when  she  did  doze  off,  a  great  ogre  chased  her  in 
her  dreams.  Round  and  round  the  rancho,  he  pur 
sued  her.  Her  cries  for  help  went  unanswered,  un 
til  at  last,  the  ogre  forced  her  into  his  cave.  There, 
she  saw  Ramon,  but  his  hands  were  chained.  Soon, 
the  ogre  had  her  a  captive  likewise,  and  then  he 
removed  his  masque.  It  was  Don  Fernando!  With 
a  cruel  laugh  he  turned  and  left  them.  Suzanna 
heard  the  giant  stones  in  the  entrance  falling  into 
place  and  knew  that  nothing  but  slow,  lingering 
death  faced  them. 

The  girl  tossed  on  her  bed  as  her  tortured  brain 
continued  to  plumb  the  horrors  of  the  ogre's  cave. 
Wet  with  perspiration,  she  sat  up  in  answer  to  her 
father's  summons.  The  first  hint  of  dawn  was  in 
the  sky. 

"Come,"  Ruiz  repeated.  "It  is  morning.  Time 
for  a  bite,  and  Guara  will  be  ready  with  the  horses." 


148  SUZANNA 


Ruiz  descended  to  the  kitchen  and  prepared  a 
scant  repast.  The  Indian  joined  him,  and  when 
Suzanna  came  down,  the  three  sat  in  silence  and 
ate.  The  great  kitchen  was  still  dark.  Shadows 
clothed  the  master's  house.  In  the  patios  the 
flowers  and  vines  were  wet  with  dew.  Everything 
was  still;  even  the  birds.  Fresh,  pungent,  earthy 
odors  and  aromas  filled  the  nostrils.  The  new-born 
day  was  pregnant  with  the  riches  the  night  had 
stored  up  for  it. 

But  it  was  strange,  unreal  to  Suzanna.  This 
stillness,  which  made  one  talk  in  whispers;  this 
lethargy,  which  held  even  the  leaves  motionless, 
had  no  part  in  the  hacienda  she  knew.  Dumbly  she 
followed  her  father  and  the  Indian  to  where  the 
horses  stood. 

Ruiz  was  not  an  emotional  man,  but  he  caressed 
the  girl  before  he  lifted  her  into  the  saddle.  Af* 
fection  from  him  was  so  unlocked  for  that  it  un 
nerved  Suzanna.  As  from  a  distance  she  heard 
Ruiz  telling  her  not  to  cry.  The  horses  were  mov 
ing,  then.  Her  father  opened  the  gate,  and  Guara 
and  she  passed  from  the  patio  to  the  highroad. 

Less  than  a  mile  away  they  came  to  the  hills. 
The  Indian,  mindful  of  the  cool  hours  still  at  hand, 


A  HOUSE  IS  PUT  IN  ORDER        149 

urged  his  horses  down  the  descent  into  the  next 
valley. 

"Hold!"  Suzanna  cried  to  him.  "From  this  spot 
I  take  my  last  look  for  two  years  at  the  Hacienda 
de  Gutierrez.  Do  not  be  impatient,  Guara.  I  want 
to  wait  here  until  the  sun  touches  the  caserio.  It 
will  be  but  a  minute." 

The  Indian  grunted  a  grudging  consent.  And 
so,  from  her  saddle,  Suzanna  said  farewell  to  the 
only  home  she  had  ever  known. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    PADRINO 

GUARA  pushed  the  horses  without  let  up  during 
the  early  morning.  Don  Fernando  had  given  him 
most  definite  instructions  as  to  his  conduct.  The 
Indian  intended  reaching  Los  Pinos  by  high-noon 
for  a  short  siesta.  Evening  should  find  them  at 
Paso  Robles.  An  early  start  the  following  morn 
ing,  then,  would  see  them  at  the  Mission  by  noon. 
Guara  had  no  mind  to  be  absent  from  the  fiesta 
which  would  most  certainly  follow  the  return  of 
Don  Diego  to  his  hacienda.  When  once  Suzanna 
was  off  his  hands,  the  Indian  knew  that  he  could 
ride,  without  pause,  the  intervening  miles  between 
himself  and  the  caserio,  excepting  the  minute  or 
two  in  which  to  water  his  pony. 

Even  though  the  girl  was  saddle-wise,  she  com 
plained  at  the  pace  Guara  set.  But  Guara  was  deaf 
to  her  complaints.  They  should  rest  at  Los  Pinos 

by  noon,  and  it  followed  that  when  the  sun  reached 

150 


THE  PADRINO 151 

its  zenith  they  rode  into  the  cooling  shade  of  the 
pines  at  the  springs  of  Los  Pinos. 

Suzanna  had  heard  of  the  life  and  color  which 
flowed  along  El  Camino  Real.  So  far  she  had  seen 
nothing  but  sun-burnt  hills,  wide,  parched  valleys 
and  unending  stretches  of  dust-covered  road. 
Therefore,  she  was  quite  unprepared  for  the  re 
ception  which  greeted  her  as  she  rode  into  the 
shelter  of  the  trees.  Before  her  reclined  at  least  a 
score  of  men  clad  in  the  blue  and  red  uniforms  of 
Mexico.  It  was  obviously,  a  detachment  of  troops 
on  its  way  to  the  Presidio  at  Monterey.  The  officer 
in  charge,  a  loose-lipped  lieutenant  overly  brave 
in  his  display  of  gold  lace,  smiled  at  her  ingratiat 
ingly,  but  not  until  his  sensuous  eyes  had  properly 
appraised  this  morsel  which  the  saints  had  sent 
hither  to  break  the  monotony  of  this  God-forsaken 
country. 

Suzanna  shared  her  master's  contempt  for  most 
things  Mexican.  Still,  it  was  not  her  hatred  of 
Mexican  officialdom  which  made  her  lips  curl  scorn 
fully  as  she  faced  this  young  subaltern.  The  look 
in  the  man's  eyes  made  this  encounter  a  matter  of 
personal  hatred.  Suzanna  saw  that  Guara  was  little 
pleased  at  having  stumbled  into  this  hornet's  nest. 


152  SUZANNA 


Mexican  soldiery  had  a  little  way  of  silencing  an 
offending  Indian.  Guara  was  alive  to  the  main 
chance,  and  he  told  himself  that  it  would  be  very, 
very  unwise  to  offend  these  miserable  senors. 
Suzanna,  however,  was  of  sterner  stuff.  To  rest 
here  was  but  courting  trouble.  With  a  toss  of  her 
head,  she  turned  and  addressed  her  Indian  guide. 

"Guara,"  she  said  evenly,  "our  horses  have 
quenched  their  thirst.  Let  us  be  on  our  way." 

The  lieutenant  reached  for  her  bridle  at  that. 

"But,  pretty  one,"  he  said  with  a  fine  show  of 
feeling,  "where  does  one  journey  to  that  she  can 
afford  to  turn  her  back  on  the  cooling  shade  of 
this  enticing  spot?" 

"The  Mexican  government  having  no  word  of 
me,"  Suzanna  answered  tartly,  "I  presume  my 
answer  to  be  none  of  your  business." 

The  officer  was  not  abashed  by  this. 

"You  force  me  to  make  it  my  business,  now," 
he  said  insinuatingly.  "Here  is  food  and  drink, — 
do  I  seem  so  ill  in  your  eyes  that  you  disdain  to 
break  bread  with  me?"  He  caught  Suzanna's  wrist 
as  she  glared  at  him.  "Come,  now.  You  are  going 
to  repay  my  hospitality  with  a  smile.  Four  weeks 
have  we  been  on  our  way,  without  a  pretty  face  to 


THE  PADRINO  153 

rest  my  eyes.  They  are  hungry  to  feast  upon  the 
loveliness  of  one  so  beautiful  as  you." 

The  officer's  men  were  keenly  interested  in  what 
went  on  before  them.  They  were  all  low  fellows, 
the  most  of  them  but  lately  free  of  some  prison. 
They  voiced  a  ruffianly  laugh  as  they  saw  Suzanna 
lift  her  hand  and  roundly  slap  the  lieutenant's  face. 

Their  ribald  laughter  infuriated  him  a  great 
deal  more  than  did  the  smack  which  this  pretty  girl 
gave  him.  The  man  had  but  little  power  over  his 
men,  but  even  so,  that  little  trembled  in  the  balance 
now.  Realizing  that  he  played  for  a  larger  stake 
than  the  favor  of  this  peon,  he  determined  to  waste 
no  further  time.  Jerking  her  arm  savagely,  he 
pulled  Suzanna  so  far  forward  that  she  lost  her 
balance  and  almost  fell  into  his  embrace. 

Guara  sat  his  horse  unmoved;  he  knew  that  a 
dozen  pairs  of  eyes  watched  him,  daring  him  to 
betray  even  the  slightest  interest  in  what  went  on 
before  him. 

The  laugh  with  which  the  young  officer  had  re 
ceived  his  burden  was  short-lived,  for  Suzanna 
became  a  scratching,  clawing  fiend.  He  tried  to 
hide  his  face  from  her  nails,  by  covering  it  with 
his  arms  as  he  unhanded  her  and  stepped  back. 


154  SUZANNA 


Suzanna  was  after  him  as  quickly  as  Timoteo  had 
taken  after  Miguel's  cowardly  rooster. 

And  now,  although  Suzanna  would  have  been 
equally  in  danger  with  any  single  one  of  them, 
the  soldiers  became  her  supporters,  and  cheered 
her  on  to  further  indignities  upon  their  leader. 
For  the  lieutenant,  the  incident  became  a  catas 
trophe.  And  then,  when  he  was  seen  at  his  very 
worst,  a  coach-and-f  our  wheeled  around  a  curve  in 
the  road  and  came  to  a  dizzy  halt  before  him. 

The  mein  of  the  gentleman  who  leaped  to  the 
ground  and  faced  him  belligerently,  as  well  as  the 
costly  trappings  of  the  splendid  coach,  said  all  too 
plainly  that  here  was  a  man  of  some  estate.  That 
a  girl  of  ripe  beauty,  the  man's  daughter  no  doubt, 
was  a  passenger  within  the  coach  and  pulled  the 
curtains  now  and  studied  him  coldly,  did  not  les 
son  the  lieutenant's  embarrassment. 

"What  play  is  this  we  have  here?"  the  owner 
of  the  carriage  demanded  hastily. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice,  Suzanna  screamed. 

"Don  Diego!"  she  repeated  again  and  again. 
And  seeing  that  recognition  of  herself  did  not 
come  to  Don  Diego's  eyes,  she  said  eagerly,  her 
body  trembling  with  emotion: 


THE  PADRINO  155 

"Don't  you  remember  little  Suzanna?" 

"Suzanna?"  Don  Diego  gasped.  "No?  It  isn't 
— it  can't  be  little  tomboy  Suzanna?" 

"But  don't  you  see  that  it  is, — that  you  find  me 
unchanged,  thanks  to  this  beast,  here." 

Sefior  de  Sola  came  close  to  the  girl's  side,  and 
seeing  that  she  was  indeed  his  godchild,  the  daugh 
ter  of  his  friend  Fernando's  Ruiz,  he  caught  her 
to  him  and  kissed  her  paternally. 

"Child,  child,"  he  murmured,  "you  have  grown 
into  a  beautiful  woman.  But  tell  me,  what  is  the 
meaning  of  this  scene?" 

Don  Diego  heard  her  out  with  some  impatience. 
Turning  on  the  soldier  he  said: 

"I  have  heard  tales  of  outrages  here  in  Cali 
fornia,  but  I,  with  many  others  in  the  city,  have 
had  a  habit  of  believing  less  than  half  of  the  ru 
mors  which  we  heard.  It  is  plain  they  were  not 
fabrications  after  all.  You  will  have  good  cause 
to  regret  your  action  to-day.  But  for  men  of  your 
type,  we  would  hear  no  talk  of  separatists  in  Cali 
fornia.  You  serve  your  country  most  illy,  and  the 
Presidio  shall  be  so  informed.  And  now,  with 
what  courtesy  you  can  muster,  withdraw  yourself 


156  SUZANNA 


and  your  men  to  such  a  distance  that  I  may  con 
verse  freely  with  this  child." 

The  power  of  wealth  and  social  position  was  as 
great  in  that  distant  day  as  it  is  now,  and  the 
lieutenant  soon  removed  his  command  to  the  corral 
among  the  trees  where  their  horses  awaited  their 
pleasure. 

"This  Indian  is  with  you,  eh?"  Don  Diego 
exclaimed  when  they  were  alone.  "But  whither 
are  you  bound?  You  are  a  full  thirty  leagues  from 
home." 

"I  am  being  sent  away,"  Suzanna  answered 
mournfully. 

"Sent  away?"  Senor  de  Sola  queried.  "To 
where,  and  for  what  reason?" 

"To  the  Mission  San  Luis  Bautista,"  the  girl  re 
plied.  "I  am  to  be  educated." 

"And  does  that  make  you  so  unhappy,  child?" 
asked  Don  Diego. 

"The  very  thought  of  it  strangles  me.  It  is  like 
being  sent  away  to  prison.  I  shall  die  so  far  from 
all  that  I  love.  Don  Fernando  tries  to  help  me,  I 
know.  But  what  is  a  peon  to  do  with  an  educa 
tion?" 

Truly,  this  was  a  question  not  easily  answered. 


THE  PADRJNO  157 

Don  Diego  chose  to  put  it  aside,  and  instead  of 
answering  it,  he  demanded  brusquely: 

"Does  your  master  know  how  miserable  your 
going  makes  you?  He  is  a  kind,  just  man,  less 
stern  than  most.  He  evidently  must  believe  he 
moves  to  please  you  in  this  thing." 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  Suzanna  murmured,  her  eyes  fill 
ing  with  tears  as  her  mind  went  back  to  the  scene 
in  the  altar  room  of  Don  Diego's  home.  "Don  Fer 
nando  knows  that  my  heart  is  breaking." 

"There,  there,"  Don  Diego  said  sympathetically 
as  Suzanna's  tears  got  the  better  of  her.  He  was  a 
sorely  puzzled  gentleman  at  the  present  moment, 
and  for  reasons  which  may  not  be  apparent  to  those 
not  familiar  with  the  customs  of  Latin  countries, 
and  of  California,  of  this  period,  in  particular. 

Don  Diego  and  the  peon  Ruiz  were  compadres, 
— a  relation  between  a  child's  own  father  and  its 
godfather  which  was  regarded  as  more  sacred 
than  any  that  blood  alone  could  convey.  Among 
peons  and  the  lower  classes  this  feeling  ran  so 
strongly  as  to  often  induce  a  man  to  name  his  own 
brother  as  his  compadre  so  that  their  relation  to 
each  other  should  be  even  more  intimate  and 
sacred. 


158  SUZANNA 


Usually,  the  godfather  was  in  a  position  to  dis 
pense  favors,  and  a  man  of  Don  Diego's  standing 
would  have  many  ahijados  (godsons).  Especially 
was  this  true  in  the  rural  country.  More  than  once 
Indians  have  been  known  to  die  willingly  for  their 
compadres.  Being  a  padrino  (godfather)  in 
curred  responsibilities  which  no  worthy  man  would 
shirk.  A  father  could  die  with  the  perfect  assur 
ance  that  his  compadre  would  care  for  his  son  or 
daughter  with  devotion  equal  to  his  own. 

Understanding  this,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  by  the 
very  sacredness  of  the  relation  between  godfather 
and  child  that  the  godfather  acquired  almost  pa 
ternal  control  of  the  latter.  The  aristocrats,  as 
well  as  the  poorer  classes,  respected  this.  Of  all 
Spanish  institutions  it  was  one  of  the  noblest,  and 
yet,  it  sometimes  led  to  embarrassing  situations. 
Don  Diego  found  himself  facing  such  a  one  at 
present. 

Suzanna,  as  Ruiz  daughter,  belonged  to  his 
friend  Gutierrez.  That  was  the  plain  intent  of 
peonage.  Don  Fernando,  therefore,  was  well  with 
in  his  rights,  according  to  custom,  in  ordering  the 
girl  about  as  he  desired.  Don  Diego,  as  Suzanna's 


THE  PADRINO 159 

padrino,  had  the  right  to  protest  whenever  he  felt 
that  his  godchild  got  less  than  her  deserts.  He 
could  even  go  so  far  as  to  pay  Don  Fernando  a  sum, 
which  would  equal  Suzanna's  debt  to  the  Hacienda 
de  Gutierrez,  and  become  her  master. 

This  procedure  was  often  resorted  to,  but  the 
question  of  friendship  entered  here.  And  Don 
Diego  was  loath  to  do  ought  which  would  offend 
the  head  of  the  house  to  which  his  daughter  was 
betrothed. 

"You  have  not  offended  Don  Fernando  or  Dona 
Luz,  have  you?"  Don  Diego  asked  seeking  for  the 
reason  which  had  led  to  the  girl's  exile. 

"Not  Dona  Luz,"  Suzanna  replied.  "These 
clothes  I  have  on,  she  gave  me  but  last  evening. 
But  Don  Fernando  says  I  have  demoralized  every 
servant  he  has  by  my  pranks, — and  laziness." 

"Oh,  so  that's  it,"  Senor  de  Sola  exclaimed,  re 
membering  the  tomboy  girl  Suzanna  had  been,  and 
finding  in  her  words  the  real  reason  for  Don  Fer- 
nando's  conduct.  "Work  ever  was  distasteful  to 
you,  child.  If  I  take  you  back,  will  you  show  by 
your  conduct  that  you  have  learned  your  lesson?" 

"Oh,  can  I  go  back?"  Suzanna  asked  eagerly, 
grasping  Don  Diego's  hand  in  her  excitement. 


160  SUZANNA 


Moved  by  this  show  of  affection,  Sefior  de  Sola 
had  not  the  heart  to  deny  her. 

"You  can,  if  you  will  give  over  your  mischievous 
ways.  I  have  as  little  time  for  pranks  and  laziness 
as  my  good  friend  Gutierrez." 

The  significance  of  this  speech  was  not  lost  on 
Suzanna. 

"You  mean  that  I  am  to  go  to  your  hacienda?" 
she  asked  breathlessly. 

"I  will  arrange  it.  My  daughter  has  need  of  a 
maid.  Sefior  Gutierrez  will  not  be  stubborn  when 
he  learns  that  she  has  decided  on  having  you." 

Suzanna's  head  whirled  at  this  good  news.  Don 
Fernando  might  be  powerful  and  able  to  order  the 
lives  of  his  servants  as  he  willed ;  but  here  was  her 
champion, — a  man  equally  strong  in  his  ways. 
The  poor  girl  turned  adoring  eyes  upon  her  savior 
as  the  full  import  of  his  marvelous  intervention  in 
her  behalf  sank  into  her  consciousness. 

"Let  us  go  back  to  the  coach,"  Don  Diego  sug 
gested.  "You  can  ride  with  us.  My  daughter  will 
be  glad  to  see  you  again,  and  pleased  that  I  have 
found  one  whom  she  knows  to  be  her  maid." 

Chiquita  had  been  an  interested  observed  of  the 
little  scene  between  her  father  and  Suzanna.  She 


THE  PADRINO  161 

found  the  girl  grown  quite  beautiful,  but  without 
any  sense  of  dress  or  style,  judged  by  the  standards 
which  she  allowed  herself.  But  as  critical  as  she 
was.  Chiquita  had  to  admit  that  Suzanna  had  little 
of  the  peon  about  her.  With  an  amused  smile, 
she  saw  her  father  and  the  girl  start  toward  the 
coach. 

''Chiquita,  don't  you  remember  little  Suzanna?" 
Don  Diego  asked  when  he  had  opened  the  car 
riage  door. 

Chiquita's  reply  was  an  indifferent  nod  to  the 
girl. 

Suzanna  stood  somewhat  in  awe  of  the  fine 
young  lady  before  her.  Her  own  clothes  were 
mean  in  comparison.  And  too,  she  was  not  slow 
to  see  the  superior  manner  with  which  Don  Diego's 
daughter  greeted  her.  The  two  girls  were  of  an 
age  and  had  -spent  many  of  their  childhood  hours 
together.  Here  was  a  time  for  unbending  for  old 
time's  sake;  but  Suzanna  searched  Chiquita's  face 
in  vain  for  the  least  sign  of  good-will  or  came- 
raderie.  She  sensed  that  the  other  saw  in  her  but 
a  peon,  and  that  it  was  Chiquita's  iHtention  that  she 
should  know  it 

Poor  Suzanna's  heart  sank  at  the  thought  of 


162  SUZANNA 


having  to  serve  her.  For  a  second  she  almost 
wished  that  she  had  not  asked  to  go  back.  As 
lonely  and  miserable  as  San  Luis  Bautista  might 
prove  it  could  be  no  worse  than  dancing  attendance 
on  this  haughty  girl  who  came  home  only  to  take 
Ramon  away  from  her. 

Don  Diego  took  no  heed  of  her  wavering. 

"Suzanna  is  going  back  with  us,"  he  went  on. 
"She  will  make  you  an  excellent  maid." 

"But  Don  Fernando?"  Chiquita  queried,  not 
displeased  at  the  thought  of  having  Suzanna  so 
squarely  set  in  her  place. 

"I  will  arrange  the  matter  with  him,"  the  girl's 
father  replied.  He  directed  Suzanna  to  get  into 
the  coach,  and  with  an  order  to  the  Indian  to  fol 
low,  the  horses  were  started. 

Don  Diego  asked  many  questions  as  the  heavy 
carriage  rocked  back  and  forth  on  its  leather 
straps.  Suzanna's  interest  in  them  overcame  her 
fears  and  she  was  soon  chattering  like  a  magpie. 

The  coach  was  over-due  by  several  hours  when 
it  came  within  sight  of  those  waiting  at  the 
hacienda.  A  cry  went  up  as  it  wheeled  into  view. 
The  rest  of  the  journey  was  down-hill,  and  the  tired 


THE  PADRINO 163 

horses,  scenting  water  and  rest,  bore  away  with  a 
burst  of  speed. 

Ramon  had  returned  from  Monterey  to  find 
Suzanna  gone.  Don  Fernando  had  been  hard  put 
to  stop  the  boy  from  racing  after  her.  The  incident 
had  so  upset  the  elder  Gutierrez  that  he  glanced 
uneasily  at  Ramon  now,  dreading  to  find  the  boy 
still  sulking,  with  Don  Diego  and  his  daughter 
almost  upon  them. 

What  he  read  in  the  boy's  expression  gave  him 
small  comfort.  Ramon  was  in  a  beastly  temper. 
The  holiday  air  of  those  about  him  but  angered 
him  more.  He  knew  what  was  expected  of  him, — 
the  fatuous  greetings,  the  extravagant  compliments, 
and  the  proper  sort  of  pride  in  his  wife-to-be. 

God!  how  he  hated  it.  Hot  rebellion  surged 
within  him  as  he  saw  himself  welcoming  Chiquita 
de  Sola  while  the  girl  whom  he  loved  was  miles 
away  to  the  south,  miserable  and  alone,  save  for  a 
worthless  Indian. 

Pancho  Montesoro,  resplendent  and  debonair, 
lounged  into  the  patio  as  the  boy  brooded.  The 
sight  of  the  man  but  added  fuel  to  the  fire  raging 
in  Ramon's  brain.  The  fellow's  impudence  toward 
Suzanna  still  smarted.  He  had  long  since  worn  out 


164  SUZANNA 


his  welcome,  and  had  he  been  of  thinner  skin,  he 
would  not  have  asked  for  plainer  evidence  of  the 
fact. 

Pancho  was  quite  pleased  with  himself  over  the 
turn  events  had  taken.  For  one  thing,  Suzanna 
was  beyond  babbling  to  Chiquita.  He  had  been 
at  the  hacienda  so  long  that  he  did  not  fear  that 
Don  Diego  would  look  upon  him  with  suspicion. 
Hence,  he  could  meet  Chiquita  without  embarrass 
ment.  He  felt  very  sure  of  himself  as  far  as  she 
was  concerned.  In  fact,  of  all  those  gathered  to 
greet  the  coach,  Pancho  Montesoro  felt  most  cer 
tain  of  himself. 

A  cry  broke  from  the  lips  of  the  crowd  as 
the  carriage  swung  into  the  patio.  The  servants, 
burdened  with  armfuls  of  flowers  rushed  forward 
as  the  driver  brought  his  horses  to  a  halt.  A  sec 
ond  later  the  door  of  the  carriage  opened,  and  as 
if  by  pre-arranged  plan,  the  servitors  of  Don  Fer 
nando  let  loose  a  shower  of  blossoms  which  almost 
covered  the  person  alighting  from  the  coach.  The 
surprise  of  this  reception  forced  a  thoroughly 
feminine  cry  from  the  startled  recipient. 

The  crowd's  excitement  subsided  abruptly  as  it 
sensed  a  familiar  note.  Don  Fernando  and  Dona 


THE  PADRINO  165 

Luz  caught  it,  also.  Pancho,  Ruiz,  Ramon — they 
looked  at  one  another  in  surprise.  And  then,  as 
the  blossoms  ceased  falling,  they  saw  Suzanna 
standing  before  them. 

Ramon  shouldered  his  way  to  her  side,  and  not 
too  soon  either;  his  father  being  scarcely  a  step 
behind  him. 

The  sight  of  the  girl  sent  "a  hush  over  the  as 
semblage.  In  that  day,  news  was  scarce,  an  inci 
dents  which  would  ordinarly  go  unnoticed  because 
of  their  unimportance  to  those  not  vitally  inter 
ested,  were  seized  upon  and  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth.  Hence  it  happened  that  Suzanna's  de 
parture  that  morning  was  known  to  all.  The  osten 
sible  reason  for  her  going  had  caused  a  murmur 
of  approval  among  the  peons  of  the  two  haciendas. 
They  naturally  wondered,  now,  what  reason  she 
had  for  being  back.  As  is  the  way  of  men  and 
women  in  their  social  position,  they  looked  to  their 
master  for  enlightenment,  and  the  scowl  which  they 
saw  upon  Don  Fernando's  face,  as  well  as  the 
strained  look  in  the  eyes  of  Dona  Luz,  hinted  that 
all  was  not  well. 

But  as  great  as  was  Don  Fernando's  surprise 
upon  beholding  Suzanna,  it  did  not  match  his  son's. 


166  SUZANNA 


Ramon  blinked  his  eyes  as  he  stared  at  her,  believ 
ing  they  deceived  him.  What  sort  of  miracle  had 
happened  to  bring  Suzanna  here?  As  he  continued 
to  gaze  at  her  spellbound,  he  saw  her  raise  her  eyes 
to  him  appealingly.  The  unfriendly  attitude  of 
those  who  confronted  her  had  chilled  the  girl  to 
her  soul,  and  she  turned  to  Ramon  beseechingly. 

"You?"  Don  Fernando  thundered  as  his  father 
glared  at  her.  "What  does  this  mean?" 

Don  Diego  stepped  out  then,  and  threw  his  arms 
about  his  old  friend, 

"It  means  that  I  took  mercy  on  her.  It  was 
worthy  of  you,  old  friend,  to  want  to  educate  her, 
but  as  Suzanna  asked  me, — what  can  a  peon  do 
with  an  education?" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

BLOOD   WILL   TELL 

IT  cannot  be  said  that  Suzanna's  return  cast  a 
shadow  over  the  festivities  Don  Fernando  and  Dona 
Luz  had  arranged  in  honor  of  their  neighbor. 
For,  no  matter  what  secret  misgivings  the  girl's 
presence  caused  Senor  Gutierrez  and  his  wife, 
they  had  no  desire  to  let  Don  Diego  see  how  sorely 
Ramon's  conduct  tried  them. 

Even  as  short  as  was  the  distance  between  the 
two  haciendas,  Don  Fernando  felt  that  it  offered 
some  obstacle  to  a  clandestine  affair,  and  so  he 
readily  consented  to  having  Suzanna  become  Chi- 
quita's  maid.  This  move  was  particularly  galling 
to  Ramon.  If  his  father  had  deliberately  tried  to 
show  him  the  gulf  between  Suzanna  and  himself, 
he  could  not  have  moved  more  surely.  The  boy 
felt  that  it  was  a  slap  at  him,  and  he  resented  it 
bitterly. 

Ramon's  parents  found  Chiquita  very  beautiful; 
but  Dona  Luz  viewed  her  imperious  ways  with 

167 


168  SUZANNA 


some  alarm.  She  knew  her  son  well  enough  to 
know  that  arrogance  would  never  win  him.  Don 
Fernando  was  deaf  to  this  criticism  of  his  friend's 
daughter.  He  could  not  close  his  eyes,  however, 
to  the  fact  Chiquita  had  not  swept  his  son  off  his 
feet,  for  the  boy  made  no  effort  to  see  her,  but  kept 
to  himself,  sullen  and  untalkative. 

Chiquita  was  well  satisfied  that  he  remained 
away.  Her  surprise  at  finding  Montesoro  here  in 
California  was  concealed  only  by  a  supreme  effort. 
The  man  had  left  her  without  a  word.  That  the 
thought  of  seeing  her  again  had  brought  him  this 
distance  from  the  land  he  loved  was  a  delicious 
morsel  for  Chiquita.  Best  of  all,  she  saw  that  her 
father  accepted  him  without  suspicion.  She  had 
expected  to  be  bored  to  distraction,  but  instead  she 
found}  herself  taking  an  eager  interest  in  life. 
Three  days  had  elapsed  since  her  return  and 
Pancho  had  not  yet  endeavored  to  see  her.  She 
explained  this  to  herself  quite  satisfactorily;  but 
the  caution  the  man  showed  irked  her. 

She  swept  into  her  room  one  evening  and  caught 
Suzanna  admiring  a  modish  gown  of  silk  and  lace. 
Annoyed,  Chiquita  showed  it  by  slamming  the  door 
behind  her. 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL  169 

Suzanna  had  gotten  on  better  than  she  had  sup 
posed  possible.  Unaware  that  Pancho's  continued 
absence  had  begun  to  fret  her  mistress,  and  that 
she  had  provoked  her  further,  she  blundered  by 
saying  naively: 

"Life  here  must  be  very  dull  for  you  after  all 
the  gaieties  of  Mexico  City." 

Chiquita  shot  a  shrewd  glance  at  her.  Her 
first  thought  being  that  she  might  have  betrayed 
herself;  but  finding  nothing  in  the  girl's  expression 
to  alarm  her,  she  smiled  at  the  implied  question. 

The  smile  disarmed  Suzanna,  and  she  asked: 

"Did  you  have  many  admirers?" 

Chiquita  was  vain  enough  to  answer  honestly: 

"Yes;  quite  a  few." 

She  had  seated  herself  before  her  mirror  and 
was  busy  with  her  hair.  Suzanna  watched  her 
with  ill-concealed  envy  as  she  fingered  her  gold 
mounted  toilette  articles. 

Ruiz,  who  had  come  on  some  errand,  passed 
Chiquita's  window  at  that  instant,  and  catching 
sight  of  the  beautiful  girl,  he  stopped  and  gazed 
at  her  with  adoring  eyes.  Chiquita  banged  the 
shutters  in  his  face.  Suzanna  would  have  done 
well  to  have  given  up  her  attempt  to  engage  her 


170  SUZANNA 


mistress  in  conversation,  but  she  would  pursue  it. 

"Didn't  you  like  one  of  them  very, — very 
much?"  she  asked. 

Suzanna  had  unwittingly  placed  an  emphasis 
on  what  Chiquita  quickly  interpreted  to  refer  to 
her  relation  with  Pancho.  It  angered  her,  and 
added  to  her  indignation  against  Ruiz,  caused  her 
to  reprimand  Suzanna. 

"You  are  entirely  too  familiar  for  a  servant," 
she  said  tartly.  "Your  question  is  decidedly  im 
pudent.  After  this,  you  do  your  work  and  keep 
your  tongue  in  your  head." 

Suzanna  said  nothing,  but  busied  herself  with 
putting  away  her  mistress'  gowns.  That  finished, 
she  started  to  prepare  her  bed.  The  moon  was  up, 
and  Chiquita  had  opened  her  shutters  again  and 
lounged  indolently  in  a  chair  before  the  window. 

A  cooling  breeze  crept  into  the  apartment  as 
Suzanna  finished  her  work.  She  was  about  to  say 
good-night  when  from  outside  the  bedroom  window 
came  the  sound  of  a  guitar. 

Chiquita  sat  up  as  she  recognized  the  tune.  It 
was  Te  Amo  (I  love  you).  She  had  heard  it  many 
times,  and  she  surmised  the  identity  of  the  man 
who  was  strumming  it  now. 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL  171 

The  melody  was  not  unknown  to  Suzanna,  and 
slipping  up  behind  Chiquita,  she  endeavored  to 
peek  out.  Her  mistress  saw  her,  however,  and 
turned  upon  her  angrily. 

"Leave  the  room,"  she  commanded.  "Does  your 
impudence  know  no  restraint  whatsoever?" 

Suzanna  bowed  humbly  and  quitted  the  cham 
ber;  but  her  heart  was  heavy.  Who  else  but  Ramon 
would  dare  or  have  reason  to  serenade  Chiquita  de 
Sola? 

Having  rid  herself  of  Suzanna,  Chiquita  stepped 
out  upon  the  tiny  balcony  outside  her  window. 
With  thudding  heart  she  swept  the  patio  for  sight 
of  the  serenader. 

"Here,  dear  one,"  a  voice  whispered. 

"You,  Pancho?"  the  girl  gasped  with  a  glad 
little  cry  as  she  saw  Montesoro  atop  the  patio  wall. 
"Come  nearer,"  she  entreated. 

The  man  slid  along  the  wall  until  he  was  close 
enough  to  grasp  the  hand  which  Chiquita  extended. 
He  kissed  it  passionately. 

"Ah,  Pancho,"  the  girl  murmured,  "how  I  have 
longed  for  you.  How  come  you  here?" 

"Because  of  you,"  Montesoro  answered.  "No 
gooner  had  I  learned  that  your  father  was  return- 


172  SUZANNA 


ing  with  you  than  I  made  my  plans.  He  does  not 
recognize  me.  Don't  be  frightened.  There  is  no 
danger." 

"But  there  is,"  Chiquita  warned,  "if  you  are 
caught  here.  This  is  not  Mexico  City." 

"You  mean  young  Gutierrez?" 

"He  is  nothing  to  me,"  the  girl  exclaimed.  "'It 
is  my  father  who  is  to  be  feared.  He  talks  of 
nothing  else  but  my  marriage.  But  oh,  I  am  long 
ing  to  be  in  your  arms." 

The  man  saw  her  breast  heave  with  emotion  as 
she  leaned  toward  him. 

"Then  let  me  come  in,"  he  begged. 

"That  you  cannot,"  Chiquita  breathed  in  his 
ear.  "It  is  too  dangerous;  besides,  the  gate  is 
locked,"  she  added  compromisingly. 

"I  can  manage  it  over  the  wall.  Look  into  the 
patio  from  the  other  window.  If  it  is  deserted  I 
am  going  to  enter." 

Chiquita  hurried  across  the  room,  and  after  a 
careful  examination  of  the  garden  tripped  back  to 
the  man  outside  her  window. 

"We  are  alone,"  she  murmured.  "But  do  you 
think  it  is  safe?" 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL  173 

Pancho  nodded  his  head,  and  without  further 
ado  dropped  into  the  enclosed  garden. 

Chiquita  swayed  upon  her  feet  as  she  turned 
and  caught  up  her  mantilla.  Throwing  it  over  her 
shoulders,  she  crept  downstairs  and  hurried  into 
the  patio.  With  a  low  cry,  she  threw  herself  into 
her  lover's  arms.  They  kissed  then — for  an  etern 
ity  it  seemed  to  little  Suzanna  who  had  stolen  down 
stairs  and  hidden  herself  in  a  small  store-room 
which  gave  onto  the  garden.  She  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief  when  the  kiss  ended, — glad  that  Chiquita's 
wooer  was  not  Ramon;  but  horrified  to  find  that 
the  woman  whom  he  was  to  take  to  wife  should 
shame  him  so  brazenly. 

To  add  to  Suzanna's  excitement,  Chiquita  led 
Pancho  to  a  bench  which  stood  just  outside  the 
doorway  of  the  store-room.  Montesoro  imme 
diately  launched  into  a  long  and  detailed  explana 
tion  regarding  his  presence  in  California.  Suzanna 
heard  enough  to  realize  that  he  and  Chiquita  had 
carried  on  a  very  intimate  affair  in  Mexico  City. 

"What  is  it  that  you  intend  to  do?"  she  heard 
Don  Diego's  daughter  ask. 

"Marry  you,"  Pancho  replied. 

"But  you  cannot,"  the  girl  protested.     "I  know 


174  SUZANNA 


for  a  certainty  my  father  will  never  give  his  con 


sent." 


"Then  you  must  elope  with  me,"  Montesoro  de 
clared. 

"But  father  surely  would  disinherit  me,"  Chi- 
quita  replied.  "And  then  where  would  we  be? 
You  have  no  money;  neither  have  I." 

"Very  true,"  Pancho  agreed.  "But  I  am  certain 
your  father  will  readily  forgive  us  when  I  con 
vince  him  that  I  am  worthy  of  your  love  and  of  the 
honor  of  being  his  son-in-law." 

"Then  why  not  convince  him  beforehand?"  asked 
Chiquita. 

"Because,  as  you  say,  he  would  never  give  his 
consent.  He  has  set  his  heart  upon  your  marrying 
Ramon,  and  will  consider  no  other.  But  if  you 
were  to  marry  me,  he  would  be  soon  reconciled, 
and  readily  give  us  his  blessing." 

"But  what  of  Ramon?"  queried  the  girl  doubt 
fully. 

"Ramon  will  marry  you  only  over  my  dead 
body,"  Pancho  declared  fiercely. 

Chiquita  was  about  to  capitulate  when  some  one 
opened  a  door  and  stepped  into  the  patio.  It  was 
her  father.  She  saw  him  glance  anxiously  about 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL  175 

the  garden.  Dreading  that  he  would  discover  her, 
Chiquita  took  Montesoro's  hand  and  led  him  into 
the  store-room. 

"We  shall  be  safe  here,"  she  whispered.  "Come, 
enfold  me.  I  am  dying  of  love  for  you." 

Chiquita  had  her  well-formed  back  toward  Su- 
zanna,  but  the  very  nearness  of  the  girl  and  her 
lover  was  enough  in  itself  to  confound  her.  She 
wanted  to  escape,  to  get  away  from  the  scene  being 
enacted  before  her,  but  she  was  helpless  to  do  it. 
Even  the  shifting  of  the  weight  of  her  body  from 
one  foot  to  the  other  caught  Montesoro's  ear,  for 
Suzanna  saw  him  stiffen. 

The  eyes  of  the  two  lovers  soon  became  accus 
tomed  to  the  darkness  of  the  room.  Chiquita  lay 
in  the  man's  arms,  her  sensuous  eyes  half -closed. 
Pancho,  glancing  over  her  shoulder,  found  him 
self  staring  at  Suzanna. 

He  said  nothing,  but  the  girl  in  his  arms  felt 
his  muscles  tense,  and  sensing  that  something  was 
amiss,  she  straightened. 

Suzanna  saw  that  she  was  discovered,  and  throw 
ing  caution  to  the  winds  made  a  bold  attempt  to 
reach  the  door.  Montesoro  intercepted  her,  and 
forcing  her  back  into  the  room,  he  stepped  through 


176  SUZANNA 


the  door  himself.  Hot  words  were  sure  to  follow 
between  Chiquita  and  Suzanna,  with  the  probability 
that  Don  Diego  would  overhear  them  and  investi 
gate.  Pancho  had  no  intention  of  ruining  his 
chances  by  attempting  to  brazen  out  his  amour. 
Unfortunately  for  him,  he  almost  collided  with  Ruiz 
as  he  left  the  store-room.  The  old  man  had  been 
searching  for  Suzanna,  and  the  sight  of  Montesoro 
led  him  to  the  instant  suspicion  that  he  would  find 
his  daughter  within  the  room  the  fellow  had  just 
quitted.  Neither  spoke  in  the  brief  instant  that  they 
faced  each  other.  Pancho  moved  off  then,  ma 
neuvering  to  bring  the  store-room  between  himself 
and  Ruiz.  This  accomplished,  he  was  about  to 
vault  to  the  top  of  the  patio  wall  when  he  saw  Don 
Diego  again  come  to  the  door  of  the  casa.  Slip 
ping  back  into  the  shadow,  Pancho  retraced  his 
steps  until  he  had  gained  the  rear  of  the  store-room. 

Ruiz  had  opened  the  door  in  time  to  see  Chiquita 
bring  her  hand  down  upon  Suzanna's  mouth. 

"I'll  teach  you  to  spy  on  me,  you  impudent 
peon!"  he  heard  her  threaten. 

Ruiz  was  not  slow  to  gather  that  it  had  been 
Chiquita,  and  not  Suzanna,  who  had  been  trysting 
with  the  man  who  had  just  left.  The  old  servant 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL 177 

was  short-tempered  as  a  rule,  but  rarely  ever  thor 
oughly  angry.  Hatred  blazed  in  his  eyes  now  as 
he  beheld  the  lengths  to  which  this  girl  went. 

Chiquita  had  heard  him  enter,  and  she  turned 
on  him  in  a  very  froth  of  rage. 

"Ruiz,"  she  cried,  "if  you  don't  lash  this  spying 
daughter  of  yours,  I  shall  see  to  it  that  the  punish 
ment  is  visited  upon  you.  She  is  a  loose-tongued, 
impertinent  busy-body.  San  Luis  Bautista  was  too 
good  for  her!  But  I  can  understand  why  your  mas 
ter  wanted  her  sent  away.  Well,  you  remember 
this, — there  are  other  places  than  the  Mission 
to  which  peons  can  be  sent." 

Suzanna  had  not  said  a  word;  but  her  eyes  con 
veyed  every  bit  of  the  contempt  which  she  felt  for 
the  woman  before  her.  She  looked  to  Ruiz  for 
advice.  He  motioned  for  her  to  leave. 

"Go  to  your  room,"  he  ordered.  "And  let  no 
word  of  this  affair  pass  your  lips.  I  shall  speak  to 
you  later." 

Chiquita  started  to  follow  Suzanna,  but  Ruiz, 
transformed  from  the  humble  servant  to  a  man  of 
determination,  stopped  her. 

"What  is  it  you  want?"  Chiquita  demanded  al 
most  insolently. 


178  SUZANNA 


"A  word  with  you,"  Ruiz  replied  with  strange 
dignity. 

The  girl  openly  smiled  her  contempt  for  this 
old  servitor.  "Say  your  word  quickly,"  she  said 
sullenly. 

"It  is  something  that  cannot  be  saic  quickly," 
Ruiz  answered  grimly.  "Nor  will  it  be  pleasant  to 
listen  to,  but  it  must  be  said.  You  have  proven  to 
me  to-night  as  no  one  else  could  have  done,  that; 
you  cannot  make  a  silk  purse  from  a  sow's  ear." 

Chiquita  gasped  at  the  boldness  of  the  man's 
words. 

"Silence!"  she  cried.  "Are  you  aware  that  you 
address  the  daughter  of  Don  Diego  de  Sola?  You 
are  more  impertinent  than  your  miserable  daugh 
ter.  Out  of  my  way  now,  and  rest  assured  that  my 
father  shall  be  apprised  of  your  conduct." 

Aghast,  Chiquita  saw  Ruiz  stand  his  ground. 

"I  warned  you  that  what  I  had  to  say  would  come 
as  a  shock,"  he  declared.  "You  have  had  every 
opportunity  that  a  girl  can  have.  I  am  sorry  that 
you  have  not  profited  thereby.  Your  actions  to 
night  show  how  little  store  you  set  by  the  honorable 
name  you  bear  and  how  little  respect  you  have  for 
the  man  to  whom  you  are  promised." 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL 179 

The  enormity  of  the  peon's  offense  to  her  dignity 
left  Chiquita  speechless.  Eyes  snapping,  she  saw 
Ruiz  shake  his  head  regretfully  as  he  surveyed  her. 

"My  child,"  Ruiz  muttered,  "there  is  no  truer 
saying  than  that  blood  will  tell.  In  spite  of  all 
the  advantages  and  training  you  have  had  you  re 
main  as  you  were  born, — all  peon." 

The  blood  left  the  girl's  face  as  she  heard  him 
out.  Something  seemed  to  be  strangling  her  as 
she  fought  for  speech.  Her  hands  flashed  to  her 
beautiful  throat  as  a  stifled  scream  broke  from  her 
lips. 

"Oh,  Virgen  santisima  que  pasa?"  she  moaned 
at  last.  "Have  you  gone  mad?  What  is  it  that 
you  are  trying  to  say?" 

"That  you  are  my  daughter,"  Ruiz  answered 
doggedly. 

A  mad  laugh  greeted  this  amazing  statement. 
The  girl's  eyes  showed  that  she  thought  Ruiz  had 
gone  insane. 

"No,"  he  said  answering  her,  "I  am  not  mad. 
You  are  my  daughter,  even  as  Suzanna  is  the 
daughter  of  Don  Diego.  The  two  of  you  were  born 
on  the  same  day.  Suzanna's  mother,  Dona  Fe,  died 
in  childbirth.  We  were  but  a  few  in  California  in 


180  SUZANNA 


those  days.  The  families  of  Don  Fernando  and 
Don  Diego  shared  the  same  roof.  We  were 
gathered  about  Dona  Fe's  bedside  when  she 
passed  away.  You  had  been  born  some  two  hours 
earlier.  Doctor  Ramos  told  Don  Diego  that  he 
feared  little  Suzanna  would  follow  her  mother  to 
the  grave.  I  overheard  him,  and  believing  the 
child  would  live  but  an  hour  or  two,  I  foolishly 
contrived  to  put  you  in  Suzanna's  crib  and  Suzanna 
into  the  arms  of  your  sleeping  mother.  I  have  had 
eighteen  years  in  which  to  regret  it.  I  had  hoped 
to  give  you  an  opportunity  to  rise  to  a  position  far 
removed  from  any  that  the  child  of  a  peon  could 
aspire  to.  Before  you  left  for  Mexico  City  I  had 
reasons  enough  to  fear  for  your  future.  I  took 
heart  again  when  Don  Fernando  told  me  that  Ra 
mon  and  you  were  betrothed.  My  old  dreams  of 
you  came  back.  I  saw  you,  my  own  flesh  and 
blood,  the  wealthiest  and  most  powerful  woman  in 
the  entire  province.  To  make  your  way  easy,  I 
even  agreed  to  have  Suzanna  sent  away,  for  I  had 
seen  how  fond  she  was  of  Ramon.  And  I  knew 
that  he  took  a  great  interest  in  her.  And  here,  on 
the  third  night  after  your  return,  I  find  you  en 
gaged  in  a  vile  amour  with  a  man  who  advertises 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL 181 

his  true  worth  to  all  who  have  eyes  in  their  heads." 

Consternation  no  longer  gripped  Chiquita  as 
Ruiz  finished.  Unbelief,  ridicule,  amusement  were 
written  large  across  her  face.  This  preposterous 
tale  was  not  even  worth  denying. 

"And  you — do  you  believe  that  any  one  will  take 
stock  in  your  weird  story?"  she  asked  patroniz 
ingly. 

"It  will  be  easily  proven,"  Ruiz  answered  with 
out  hesitation.  "I  do  not  ask  or  expect  affection  or 
consideration  from  you  for  myself.  But  Don 
Fernando  has  been  a  good  master.  And  Don  Diego 
has  repaid  my  treachery  with  years  of  kind  treat 
ment.  I  will  not  see  them  shamed  publicly.  And 
no  matter  what  it  may  cost  me,  I  warn  you  that  un 
less  you  change  your  ways  I  shall  confess." 

The  dignity  and  assurance  of  the  man  bore 
weight  with  the  girl,  and  as  the  horrible  feeling 
that  she  had  listened  to  the  truth  settled  upon  her, 
she  flew  into  a  wild  rage.  The  fool,  to  talk  of 
affection!  With  pleasure,  she  could  have  seen  him 
drawn  and  quartered. 

"If  ever  you  so  much  as  breathe  a  word  of  this 
to  a  living  soul,"  she  threatened  vengefully,  "I 
will  kill  you  with  my  own  hands.  What  do  you 


182  SUZANNA 


think  Don  Diego  would  do  if  he  knew  how  you  had 
tricked  him?"  * 

"I  am  already  an  old  man,"  Ruiz  answered. 
"Death  holds  no  fear  for  me.  I  have  kept  step  with 
it  so  long  that  when  it  calls  me  I  shall  not  hold 
back.  And  remember  that  it  is  me  who  threatens, 
not  you.  Go  to  your  room,  now,  and  take  stock 
of  yourself." 

He  attempted  to  open  the  door  for  her,  but  the 
girl  would  have  none  of  his  assistance.  She  flung 
herself  out  of  the  place,  and  with  a  hard,  metallic 
laugh,  crossed  the  patio. 

The  old  man  came  out  a  second  after  her.  Head 
bowed,  he  shuffled  across  the  moonlit  garden  toward 
the  rear  of  the  house. 

Ruiz  had  done  that  which  he  had  been  intent  on 
for  many  years.  And  now  that  he  had  whispered 
his  story  to  the  ears  of  her  who  had  profited  most 
by  his  treachery,  he  found  himself  even  more  mis 
erable  than  he  had  been,  for  fear  was  now  added 
to  his  tortures.  He  wondered  what  his  fate  would 
be  if  Don  Fernando  discovered  what  he  had  done. 
Would  he  be  sent  to  the  hemp  fields  in  Mexico  to 
wear  his  old  fingers  off  in  the  broiling  suns  of 
Yucatan?  Death  would  be  preferable  to  that. 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL  183 

Ruiz  had  been  a  good  man  on  the  hacienda.  Few 
had  worked  harder.  Would  his  master  forget  that? 
He  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  and  mumbled  a 
prayer  for  mercy  as  he  trudged  to  his  room.  He  had 
little  hope  that  what  he  had  said  to  his  daughter 
would  make  her  change  her  ways.  She  was  a  wilful, 
headstrong  girl.  It  is  significant  that  what  paternal 
affection  the  man  had  was  given  to  Suzanna,  and  not 
to  his  own  child,  and  whenever  he  succeeded  in  ris 
ing  beyond  worrying  about  himself,  it  was  of  her, 
and  not  of  Chiquita,  that  he  thought. 

Pancho  Montesoro  waited  until  long  after  Ruiz' 
going  before  he  moved  from  his  cover  in  back  of 
the  store-room.  The  man  had  heard  every  word  of 
what  went  on  between  the  girl  and  her  father.  The 
effect  of  it  left  him  cold,  un-nerved.  Not  until  he 
had  scaled  the  wall  and  returned  to  his  quarters  in 
Don  Fernando's  house  did  he  give  vent  to  his  emo 
tions.  It  frightened  him  to  think  how  close  he  had 
been  to  running  off  with  the  girl.  Her  secret  would 
have  come  out,  and  he  would  have  been  left  with 
a  penniless  peon  on  his  hands. 

The  narrowness  of  his  escape  continued  to  haunt 
the  man  as  he  fought  for  sleep.  And  then,  as  he 
lay  tossing  in  his  bed,  he  saw  his  golden  opportun- 


184  SUZANNA 


ity, — Suzanna.  He  alone,  excepting  Ruiz,  knew 
the  truth  concerning  her.  What  easier  than  to  keep 
his  head  on  his  shoulders  and  let  Ramon  marry 
Chiquita?  That  left  him  a  free  hand  with  Suzanna. 
And  so  roseate  did  his  immediate  future  become 
that  he  was  soon  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MISTRESS  AND  MAID 

CHIQUITA  lay  awake  the  following  morning 
waiting  for  Suzanna  to  serve  her  breakfast. 
Propped  up  in  her  massive  bed,  clothed  in  lingerie 
which  was  a  mass  of  silk  and  lace,  the  girl  was  a 
beautiful  picture,  for  all  that  she  had  not  spent  a 
particularly  restful  night  and  that  she  was  in  none 
too  good  humor.  When  her  sleepy  eyes  caught 
sight  of  a  hand  protruding  through  the  peep-hole 
in  the  door,  she  frowned.  But  the  sight  of  a  letter 
in  the  hand  changed  matters.  Jumping  quickly 
from  bed,  she  hurried  to  the  door  and  took  the 
note. 

She  had  just  climbed  back  into  bed  when  Suzanna 
— a  far  different  Suzanna  than  she  had  ever  seen 
before — returned  with  her  breakfast  of  chocolate, 
tortilla,  butter  and  molasses.  Suzanna  placed  the 
tray  on  the  bed  in  front  of  Chiquita,  who  stared  at 
her  disdainfully.  Suzanna  didn't  mind:  she  had 

decided  to  treat  her  mistress  with  as  silent  contempt 

185 


186  SUZANNA 


as  she  could  command.  Being  anxious  to  get  rid 
of  her  maid,  so  she  could  read  her  letter,  Chiquita 
directed  her  to  get  fresh  molasses.  Without  a  word, 
Suzanna  took  the  molasses  pitcher  and  left  the 
room.  Chiquita  opened  her  letter  and  found  that 
it  was  from  Pancho.  As  she  read,  her  brow  con 
tracted,  and  a  dark,  foreboding  look  appeared  in 
her  eyes. 

The  letter  said: 

"I  realize  it  would  be  a  serious  mistake  for  you  to 
elope  with  me  as  we  planned.  Using  your  own  words, 
your  father  might  disinherit  you;  and  I  have  nothing 
to  offer  but  my  great  love.  By  all  means  marry  Ramon. 
What  will  there  be  to  prevent  us  from  being  the  same 
to  each  other  as  we  have  been  in  the  past?  I  love  you 
too  much  to  ask  you  to  take  the  great  risk  of  turning 
your  father  against  you.  Believe  me,  always  yours. 


Chiquita  trembled  with  anger.  She  was  in  such 
mental  agitation  that  her  body  quivered.  Marry 
Ramon!  Indeed!  Climbing  quickly  from  her  bed 
she  began  to  dress. 

No  sooner  was  Suzanna  back  than  she  ordered 
her  to  tell  Don  Diego  that  she  wished  to  see  him  at 
once  in  her  apartment. 

She  was  pacing  impatiently  up  and  down  her 
room  when  Don  Diego  entered.  She  had  had  a  few 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID  187 

minutes  in  which  to  get  control  of  herself,  and  her 
conduct  showed  that  she  was  not  without  a  certain 
finesse  at  chicanery. 

Instead  of  letting  loose  a  torrent  of  angry  words, 
she  went  up  to  the  man  whom  she  had  always  ad 
dressed  as  father  and  placed  her  arm  about  his 
neck  and  kissed  him. 

Don  Diego  was  delighted. 

"What  is  it,  little  one?"  he  asked  affectionately. 

Chiquita  mustered  a  tantalizing  pout  to  her  lips, 
and  gazing  at  Don  Diego  from  the  corners  of  her 
eyes,  she  said  in  gentle,  pensive  tones: 

"Father,  must  we  remain  here?" 

"Do  you  find  life  so  dull?"  Don  Diego  asked 
sympathetically. 

Chiquita  nodded  her  head. 

"I  know  that  I  shall  wither  and  die  if  I  have  to 
remain  here,"  she  murmured  plaintively. 

"But  you  will  soon  become  accustomed  to  this 
new  order  of  life,  my  child.  Before  long  you  and 
Ramon  will  be  getting  married;  you  will  find  that 
that  alone  will  bring  many  new  interests  to  you. 
In  the  end,  you  will  not  trade  California  for  Mexico 
City.  My  fortune  is  invested  here,  it  is  my  home. 


188  SUZANNA 


And  I  love  this  broad  land.  You  will,  too,  when 
the  glamour  of  city  life  wears  off." 

"But  I  shan't,  father,"  Chiquita  protested.  "I 
shall  never  like  it  here.  Please,  father,  won't — 
won't  you  let  me  return  to  Mexico  City?" 

Don  Diego  was  astounded.  He  could  not  be 
lieve  that  he  had  heard  aright. 

"What?"  he  demanded.  "You  go  back  to  Mexico 
City  alone?  Are  you  mad  to  suggest  such  a  thing? 
Do  you  think  that  I  would  allow  you,  a  girl  of  your 
age,  to  commit  such  folly?" 

Don  Diego's  voice  had  risen  as  the  enormity 
of  Chiquita's  request  mounted  before  his  eyes. 
The  mask  had  fallen  from  the  girl's  face  as  his 
anger  blazed  forth. 

"I  am  old  enough  to  know  what  I  want  to  do!" 
she  retorted.  "I  will  not  remain  here!" 

"But  you  will!"  Don  Diego  exclaimed.  "And 
I  warn  you,  do  not  humble  me  by  communicating 
your  desire  to  Ramon's  family." 

"Ramon?"  Chiquita  echoed  contemptuously.  "I 
have  been  here  three  days  and  he  has  not  been  in 
my  company  a  second,  save  for  meeting  me  at 
table." 

"You  forget,"  Don  Diego  protested  in  kindlier 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID  189 

tone,  "that  the  boy  is  no  dandy.  But  what  skill  he 
lacks  on  the  guitar,  he  more  than  makes  up  in  his 
ability  to  manage  his  father's  hacienda.  If  I  had 
a  son  of  my  own  I  would  not  ask  to  have  him  more 
worthy  than  Ramon." 

"I  question  only  his  interest  in  me,"  Chiquita 
pursued.  "If  you  ask,  I  hold  as  little  attraction 
for  him  as  he  does  for  me.  I  have  heard  whispers 
enough  since  my  return.  Why  was  Don  Fernando 
sending  this  girl  Suzanna  away?  Surely,  you  do 
not  believe  this  fiction  about  educating  her?" 

"You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you  are  jealous  of 
little  Suzanna,  do  you?"  Don  Diego  asked.  "You 
know  the  pet  Don  Fernando  made  of  her.  She  and 
Ramon  grew  up  together.  It  is  only  natural  that 
the  boy  should  have  an  interest  in  her.  I  hold  it 
to  his  credit;  but  your  tone  implies  something  that 
I  do  not  want  to  hear  on  my  daughter's  lips.  Ban 
ish  such  evil  thoughts,  and  rest  assured  that  the 
boy's  intentions  are  honorable.  And  remember, 
too,  that  it  is  well  to  be  suspicious  of  those  who 
are  too  well  versed  in  love." 

Chiquita  turned  away  with  a  sarcastic  smile,  and 
as  she  did  so,  Suzanna  came  in  with  the  announce 
ment  that  Ramon  was  downstairs. 


190  SUZANNA 


Don  Diego  bowed  her  out  of  the  room.  There 
was  a  smile  of  happiness  on  his  face  as  he  turned 
to  Chiquita. 

"See!"  he  grinned.  "The  boy  is  fond  of  you. 
He  is  like  his  father;  he  is  not  to  be  hurried.  Put 
on  your  prettiest  smile,  little  one,  and  you  will  see 
how  he  will  reward  you." 

Ramon  was  going  to  Monterey  for  the  day  and 
Dona  Luz  was  responsible  for  his  being  at  Don 
Diego's  home  this  early  in  the  morning.  The  boy's 
mother  had  insisted  that  he  offer  to  do  whatever 
errands  he  could  for  Chiquita.  It  .was  a  gentle 
manly  thing  to  do,  and  one  which  he  could  not 
refuse,  even  though  he  resented  placing  himself 
in  a  position  which  seemed  to  give  encouragement 
to  his  father's  plans  in  regard  to  Chiquita. 

Suzanna  had  lingered  with  Ramon  as  long  as  she 
had  dared  when  he  arrived,  and  once  out  of  Chi- 
quita's  room,  she  promptly  returned  for  another 
minute  with  him.  Even  though  being  near  to  him 
filled  her  with  happiness,  she  was  not  able  to  con 
ceal  the  fact  from  the  boy  that  she  was  far  from 
being  the  carefree  girl  she  had  been. 

"You  are  unhappy  here,  aren't  you,   mucha- 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID 191 

chita?"  Ramon  said  softly.  "There's  no  one  to 
make  excuses  for  you,  now,  is  there?" 

Suzanna  shook  her  head  as  she  looked  away, 
afraid  to  meet  his  eyes. 

"My  father  sold  you  as  though  you  were  a 
slave,"  the  boy  went  on  bitterly.  "  Twere  a  mil 
lion  times  better  that  you  had  gone  to  San  Luis 
Bautista  than  to  serve  the  woman  you  do.  She  was 
ever  a  haughty,  ill-tempered  person,  and  it  is  easy 
to  see  she  has  not  changed  her  ways." 

"Hush,"  Suzanna  begged. 

"The  injusice  of  it  burns  me,"  the  boy  persisted 
in  saying.  "It  makes  me  envy  Perez  his  freedom. 
If  I  had  the  courage  I,  too,  would  turn  outlaw. 
But  you  mark  it  well — the  day  will  come  when 
these  things  will  not  be  tolerated  in  California.  I 
am  a  free-man,  the  son  of  a  don,  and  yet  I  am 
ordered  about  even  as  you  are.  I  have  seen  this 
day  coming  a  long  while  since,  and  yet  two  weeks 
ago  I  was  happy,  satisfied  to  wait  for  others  to  act. 
I'm  done  with  dreaming,  now." 

Ramon  saw  Suzanna  tremble  as  she  stiffled  a 
sob.  Reaching  out,  he  placed  his  hands  upon  her 
shoulders  and  wheeled  her  around  so  that  she  faced 
him. 


192  SUZANNA 


"Suzanna,"  he  murmured,  "I  beg  of  you,  don't 
despair.  I  trust  I  have  been  a  dutiful  son:  it  is  my 
wish  to  remain  one.  But  I  shall  not  become  a 
traitor  to  myself  even  for  the  love  I  bear  my 
parents." 

"Your  words  are  very  virtuous,"  interrupted 
Chiquita.  She  had  entered  the  room  in  time  to 
catch  Ramon's  last  statement  and  to  see  the  tender 
regard  for  Suzanna  in  his  eyes. 

Ramon  faced  her  rather  truculently,  feeling  that 
she  had  contrived  to  steal  into  the  room.  Chiquita 
read  the  look  in  his  eyes  and  deliberately  set  out 
to  exasperate  him  by  asking: 

"Did  you  come  to  see  me,  or  my  maid?" 

The  boy  did  not  answer  at  once.  Instead  he  sur- 
surveyed  her  coldly.  Then: 

"Maids  are  so  new  a  luxury  in  California  that  I 
recognize  one  with  difficulty,  especially  when  I  am 
in  the  presence  of  two  persons,  one  of  whom  I  am 
pledged  to  wed,  and  the  other,  my  playmate  since 
childhood." 

The  reprimand  in  his  words  forced  a  grudgingly 
given  nod  of  apology  from  Chiquita.  This  clash 
of  wills  opened  her  eyes  to  the  mettle  of  the  man. 
Not  quite  sure  of  herself,  she  heard  Ramon  say: 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID 193 

"As  for  the  statement  which  you  overheard,  I 
can  but  say  again  that  it  is  the  truth.  But  I  do 
beg  you  not  to  misinterpret  my  interest  in  this  girl. 
My  regard  for  her  is  honorable." 

"And  evidently  most  intimate,"  Chiquita  added 
with  biting  sarcasm. 

"Happily,  yes,"  Ramon  answered  boldly. 

"Then  why  do  you  announce  yourself  to  me?" 

"I  am  going  to  Monterey  for  the  day.  My 
mother  thought  that  you  might  have  need  of  some 
thing  from  the  city." 

"Your  mother  is  most  kind,"  Chiquita  said  con 
descendingly.  "Please  convey  my  thanks  to  her. 
My  needs,  though,  are  better  served  by  one  who 
deems  it  an  honor,  and  not  a  duty,  to  administer 
to  them." 

Ramon  took  his  dismissal  gracefully.  Chiquita 
bade  Suzanna  to  open  the  door  for  him,  but  the 
boy  sprang  ahead  of  her,  and  bowing  courteously, 
threw  the  door  open  and  passed  out.  The  next 
minute  they  heard  him  riding  away. 

Chiquita,  unable  to  control  herself  longer,  raised 
her  clenched  hands  to  her  breasts  as  she  confronted 
Suzanna. 


194  SUZANNA 


"Go,  you  devil's  whelp!"  she  stormed  wrathfully. 
"Do  not  let  me  see  your  hateful  face  again  this 
day.  And  if  I  ever  find  you  in  that  man's  company 
you  shall  be  publicly  flogged." 

Suzanna  was  more  than  glad  to  do  as  she  was 
ordered,  and  as  she  left  the  room  she  murmured 
to  herself: 

"0,  Holy  Mother,  if  this  be  a  lady,  then  I  am 
glad  that  I  am  a  peon." 

Her  thought  but  echoed  Ramon's.  The  impres 
sion  of  his  bride-to-be  which  the  boy  had  carried 
away  with  him  was  little  calculated  to  make  him 
look  on  her  with  less  antipathy.  From  childhood, 
he  had  ever  found  Chiquita  cold,  haughty,  and 
domineering.  The  traits  which  she  had  given  evi 
dence  of  possessing  as  a  girl  were  in  full  bloom 
now,  and  Ramon's  spirit  revolted  at  the  thought  of 
giving  the  best  years  of  his  life  to  her. 

*7  am  the  chattel,  not  the  peon,"  he  mused  as  he 
raced  his  horse  toward  Monterey.  "By  what  right 
of  God  or  man  does  my  father  compel  me  to  marry 
this  woman?  She  has  the  shrewish  temper  of  a 
crone,  even  though  she  is  held  up  to  me  for  an 
aristocrat.  I'll  have  none  of  her;  I  am  a  free  man, 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID  195 

and  I  swear  that  my  self  respect  shall  not  be  taken 
from  me.  'My  maid,'  "  he  quoted  contemptuously. 
"Truth  were  better  served  if  their  positions  were 
reversed." 


CHAPTER  XV 

ALVAREZ  HAS  A  VISITOR 

ALVAREZ,  the  attorney,  made  a  habit  of  arising 
with  the  sun.  That  very  morning  he  had  been 
wandering  about  the  dew-laden  patio  of  his  modest 
home  when  his  mozo  brought  him  word  of  a  visitor. 
The  earliness  of  the  hour  prompted  the  thought  that 
this  client  came  on  urgent  business.  He  gave  a 
thought  to  his  person,  and  although  he  wore  only  a 
serape  which  barely  came  to  his  knees,  leaving  his 
bony  shanks  exposed,  he  decided  to  see  his  visitor 
at  once.  Ordering  his  servant  to  show  the  man  into 
the  patio,  Alvarez  paced  back  and  forth  nervously. 
He  was  a  tall,  angular  man,  fairly  bald,  and  his 
present  attire  only  served  to  make  him  more  gro 
tesque  than  usual.  His  surprise,  when  Ruiz  was 
shown  in,  can  be  imagined. 

"What  brings  you  here  at  this  hour  of  the  day?" 
he  demanded  anxiously. 

The  peon's  eyes  were  bloodshot;  his  thin  face 
more  wrinkled  than  ever.  He  had  come  the  dis- 

196 


ALVAREZ  HAS  A  VISITOR          197 

tance  from  the  hacienda  since  midnight.  His  body 
quivered  nervously,  his  hands  clenching  and  un 
clenching  as  he  stood  before  the  lawyer. 

Ruiz  had  tortured  himself  for  hours  with  the 
thought  that  his  secret  was  out  at  last.  He  cursed 
the  impulse  which  had  led  him  to  tell  Chiquita  the 
truth.  What  if  she  should  unwittingly  betray  him 
to  Don  Diego?  His  life  would  be  forfeited  with 
out  doubt.  If  she  kept  his  secret,  she  would  have 
him  done  awray  with  to  protect  herself.  His  con 
duct  had  been  unforgivable.  In  fancy,  he  saw 
every  man's  hand  raised  against  him. 

Ruiz  was  singularly  human  in  his  worry.  As 
old  age  had  crept  on  him  he  had  become  obsessed 
with  the  desire  to  tell  his  secret  to  some  one.  But 
now  that  he  had,  he  would  have  sold  his  soul  to 
have  been  able  to  recall  his  words.  Worst  of  all 
for  him,  the  conviction  that  he  would  have  to  con 
fide  in  one  of  his  betters  and  seek  advice,  had 
grown  on  him.  He  could  not  turn  to  Don  Fer 
nando  or  Don  Diego,  and  so  Alvarez,  the  lawyer, 
had  seemed  the  next  best  friend.  The  desire  to  tell 
another,  once  acknowledged,  Ruiz  found  himself 
done  with  sleep,  and  pursued  by  devils  of  his  own 


198  SUZANNA 


conjuring,  he  had  set  off  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  for  Monterey. 

"I  am  in  great  trouble,  Sefior  Alvarez,"  he  mut 
tered  miserably  in  answer  to  the  lawyer's  question. 

"You,  Ruiz?"  Alvarez  exclaimed,  surprised  that 
the  man  came  about  his  own  affairs,  and  not  Don 
Fernando's.  The  lawyer  immediately  dismissed 
from  his  mind  the  thought  that  anything  serious 
impended.  "I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  so,  Ruiz," 
he  continued  in  lighter  vein.  "But  what  would 
happen  to  me  if  people  did  not  encounter  trouble 
once  in  a  while?  Come  into  the  house  and  tell  me 
your  woes." 

Only  after  considerable  hemming  and  hawing 
did  Sefior  Alvarez  succeed  in  drawing  the  man's 
story  from  him.  The  attorney's  shrewd  eyes 
showed,  as  Ruiz  continued,  that  he  had  reversed 
his  opinion  about  this  affair  being  a  matter  of  no 
importance.  By  the  time  the  peon  had  finished,  he 
was  keenly  alive  to  his  opportunity.  And  had  Ruiz 
had  a  proper  knowledge  of  men  he  would  have 
seen  the  cunning  in  the  lawyer's  eyes  as  Alvarez 
spread  his  hands  and  said: 

"This  is  a  very,  very  serious  matter,  Ruiz.  It 
involves  my  dearest  friends.  With  all  my  legal 


ALVAREZ  HAS  A  VISITOR          199 

knowledge,  I  am  still  constrained  to  say  that  there 
is  nothing  in  law  to  right  this  wrong.  The  decep 
tion  of  a  lifetime  is  not  undone  so  easily.  Don 
Diego  is  a  hot,  tempestuous  gentleman.  I  do  not 
doubt  that  your  life  would  be  in  danger  if  he  heard 
a  word  of  what  you  have  told  me.  Your  master 
would  be  hardly  less  severe,  for  he  has  set  his 
mind  on  Ramon's  marrying  Chiquita." 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  Ruiz  groaned  aloud. 

"Keep  your  tongue  in  your  head!  Let  no  man 
know  a  word  of  this.  I  will  give  the  matter  my 
earnest  attention,  and  when  I  have  arrived  at  a 
solution  I  will  notify  you.  It  is  a  terrible  thing  to 
conceal,  and  may  Heaven  forgive  me  for  advising 
you  to  seal  your  lips.  But  many  times  these  mat 
ters  work  out  their  own  solution.  I  want  you  to 
promise  me,  though,  come  what  may,  that  you  will 
never  reveal  the  fact  that  you  have  consulted  me." 

Ruiz  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  as  he  sank  to 
his  knees  and  pressed  the  lawyer's  hand  to  his  lips. 

"Oh,  Senor  Alvarez,"  he  promised,  "I  shall  do 
as  you  say.  I  am  only  a  poor,  ignorant  man;  you 
have  the  wisdom  of  the  world  at  your  finger  tips. 
I  should  have  come  to  you  months  ago." 

"Well,  see  that  you  return  to  the  hacienda  with 


200  SUZANNA 


some  speed  or  else  Don  Fernando  will  wonder  what 
strange  business  has  brought  you  to  town.  Be  care 
ful  of  whom  you  meet.  I  will  be  at  the  hacienda 
for  the  fiesta.  If  I  have  anything  to  communicate 
to  you,  I  shall  do  so  then." 

But  Ruiz  had  no  sooner  passed  through  the  patio 
gate  than  the  attorney  dropped  his  mournful  pose 
and  rushing  into  the  room  where  his  son,  Miguel, 
slept,  he  cried: 

"Awaken!    Arise  at  once!" 

Miguel  groaned,  muttered  an  inarticulate  word, 
and  then  turned  over  to  woo  sleep  again. 

His  father  caught  him  by  the  arm  and  half -pulled 
him  out  of  his  bed.  The  boy  opened  his  blurred 
eyes  in  astonishment  in  answer  to  this  violent  treat 
ment. 

"What  is  it? — what  is  the  matter?"  he  gasped. 

"Matter  enough,"  Alvarez  retorted.  "I  want 
you  to  dress  at  once,  and  as  soon  as  you  have  had 
your  coffee,  take  yourself  to  Don  Diego's  hacienda. 
There  is  legal  work  awaiting  me  there  which  you 
can  manage.  Let  that  be  your  excuse.  My  real 
reason  for  sending  you  is  that  I  want  you  where 
you  can  pay  every  attention  to  little  Suzanna." 

"Suzanna?"  Miguel  questioned  in  surprise. 


ALVAREZ  HAS  A  VISITOR          201 

"It  is  my  wish  that  you  marry  her  as  speedily 
as  you  can  manage  it." 

"You,  my  father,  advise  me  to  marry  a  peon?" 

"Do  not  be  troubled  about  that.  She  is  a  re 
markable  girl.  I  want  you  to  move  swiftly,  and 
as  you  regard  your  well-being — with  success.  You 
can  trust  me  for  being  no  fool.  Ask  no  questions; 
but  do  as  I  command." 

The  hazing  which  he  had  received  at  Suzanna's 
hands  had  not  inspired  Miguel  with  any  desire  to 
wed  her.  He  shivered  to  think  how  she  would 
receive  his  love-making.  And  although  he  feared 
his  father,  the  boy  stood  in  greater  dread  of  Su 
zanna's  sharp  tongue. 

"But  I  have  no  desire  to  wed  Suzanna,"  he  cried. 

"Your  desires  are  not  to  be  considered,"  his 
father  answered  sharply.  "I  warn  you — do  not 
come  running  back  to  me  with  the  word  that  she 
will  have  none  of  you.  I  know  the  girl ;  she  is  of  a 
fine  temper  and  a  sharp  tongue.  If  you  fail  to  win 
her  I  shall  disinherit  you  if  it  is  the  last  act  of  my 
life." 

Dumbfounded,  the  boy  set  about  preparing  for 
the  journey.  He  knew  his  father  to  be  a  stern, 
severe  man;  what  he  did,  he  did  cautiously,  and 


202  SUZANNA 


usually  with  wisdom.  But  what  was  there  of  cau 
tion  or  wisdom  in  this  mad  move?  And  Suzanna? 
— -thought  of  her  made  the  boy  move  even  more  re 
luctantly.  Didn't  his  father  know  that  she  would 
laugh  him  to  scorn  if  he  attempted  to  woo  her? 
Only  the  sound  of  his  father  returning  to  see  how 
he  got  on  made  the  boy  hasten. 

A  half -hour  later,  his  guitar  thrown  over  his 
shoulder,  Miguel  set  forth  for  the  hacienda.  But 
if  ever  a  sadder  or  more  hopeless  knight  set  forth 
in  quest  of  fair  lady,  history  does  not  record  it. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CROSS  PURPOSES 

CHIQUITA  lost  little  time  in  dispatching  a  note 
to  Montesoro,  once  Ramon  had  left.  The  customs 
of  the  country  allowed  her  liberties  she  never  would 
have  known  in  a  more  urban  atmosphere.  Her 
note  to  Pancho  requested  him  to  accompany  her 
on  horseback  that  afternoon. 

Pancho  had  greeted  the  new  day  with  mind  quite 
made  up  as  to  his  future  conduct.  The  note  from 
Chiquita  came  as  no  great  surprise.  He  resolved 
to  take  advantage  of  the  opportunity  the  ride  would 
afford,  and  come  to  a  definite  break  with  her.  He 
was  early  in  keeping  his  appointment;  this  by  de 
sign,  too.  He  had  hoped  to  find  chance  for  a  word 
with  Suzanna,  and  in  this  he  was  not  disappointed. 

"Your  memory  is  very  poor,  senor,"  Suzanna 
answered  caustically  to  his  compliments. 

"But  my  eyes  are  not,"  Pancho  grinned.  "They 
see  that  thou  art  as  beautiful  as  ever." 

"  Twere  best  you  saved  your  word    for  hex 

203 


204  SUZANNA 


whose  company  you  so  enjoyed  last  night,"  Su- 
zanna  retorted. 

"Thou  art  not  jealous?"  Pancho  said  teasingly. 

"Humph!"  The  exclamation  was  bitterly  sar 
castic.  "Your  words  but  flatter  yourself." 

Pancho  was  not  deterred  from  trying  to  make 
his  point  with  her. 

"A  gentleman  often  does  what  is  expected  of 
him, — because  it  is  expected."  He  dropped  his 
voice  and  put  a  serious  note  into  it  as  he  proceeded. 

"Let  it  remain  for  me  to  despise  myself  as  I 
should,"  he  muttered.  "Only  last  night  did  I  re 
alize  to  what  low  station  I  had  fallen  to  find  hap 
piness  in  an  affair  with  one  who  by  her  conduct 
should  be  hailed  as  peon,  not  lady.  This  afternoon 
will  see  an  end  to  it!  I  had  hoped  to  win  her 
father's  patronage;  but  the  need  for  that  is  gone. 
I  have  been  in  communication  with  certain  gentle 
men  in  Monterey,  who  are  anxious  to  establish  the 
sport  of  kings  in  their  city.  Arrangements  are 
going  forward  for  the  building  of  an  arena.  In  a 
few  weeks  I  will  be  hailed  as  an  idol  in  this  prov 
ince.  But  I  shall  not  forget  you,  little  one.  I 
promise  you,  that  as  I  live,  I  shall  ask  you  to  be 
my  wife." 


CROSS  PURPOSES  205 

He  had  heard  Chiquita  leave  the  house,  and 
without  seeming  to  be  aware  of  it,  he  turned  from 
Suzanna  without  a  further  word,  his  face  tense 
with  well-feigned  emotion. 

Suzanna  could  but  gaze  after  him  dumbly. 
Truly,  this  was  a  new  Pancho.  She  saw  him  bow 
coldly  to  her  mistress,  and  offer  what  seemed  to 
be  a  reluctant  hand  as  he  helped  her  into  her 
saddle.  The  man's  manner  toward  Chiquita  was 
in  marked  contrast  to  the  passionate  fondness  which 
he  had  shown  the  night  before. 

Not  until  a  turn  of  the  road  hid  them  from  view 
did  Suzanna  return  to  her  work.  Whatever  relief 
she  felt  at  having  her  mistress  away  for  the  after 
noon  was  short-lived  for  she  had  barely  composed 
herself  when  her  eyes  widened  at  the  sight  of 
Miguel  Alvarez  in  holiday  attire. 

Suzanna  greeted  him  with  a  laugh,  but  her  face 
lost  its  smile  as  she  began  to  realize  that  he  came 
to  pay  her  compliments.  Miguel's  efforts  were 
clumsy  to  the  point  of  being  ridiculous. 

"What  is  it  you  are  trying  to  do?"  Suzanna 
snapped  as  the  fool  boy  persisted  in  annoying  her 
with  his  declarations. 


206  SUZANNA 


"I  have  come  to  marry  you,"  Miguel  answered 
sadly. 

"You  have,  eh?"  Suzanna  showed  her  teeth  in 
a  mirthless  grin.  What  had  happened  to  the 
world?  Here  was  the  second  man  within  the  hour 
who  had  proposed  to  her.  Suzanna  shook  her  head 
as  she  studied  the  boy's  face.  "Even  the  thought 
of  it  seems  to  make  you  miserable,"  she  said 
sharply.  "You  know  as  little  of  women  as  you  do 

of  game-cocks!  Holy  Mother  of  God! what 

madman  whispered  to  you  that  I  could  care  for 
you?  Tell  me,  why  should  I  want  to  wed  you?" 

"I  have  an  honorable  name,"  Miguel  retorted, 
stung  to  the  quick  by  Suzanna's  derision.  "I  have 
my  father's  permission  to  wed  you,  too.  I  am  an 
only  son.  Some  day  I  shall  have  means.  Do  you 
think  to  do  better  than  wed  one  of  my  station  As 
my  wife,  you  will  be  received  with  the  courtesy 
your  beauty  deserves." 

"You  think,  then,  to  exhibit  me  as  though  I  were 
a  prize  bull,  eh?  I'll  have  none  of  it!  Peon  I 
am,  though  you  do  not  put  it  into  words;  but  even 
so,  I  shall  wed  a  man,  and  not  a  monk." 

"Well  I  know  on  whom  your  heart  is  set," 
Miguel  argued  more  bravely  than  he  felt.  "But 


CROSS  PURPOSES 207 

you  will  never  get  him.  I  do  not  ask  you  for  love; 
but  you  shall  wed  me." 

"Shall?"  Suzanna  mocked.  "  Tis  a  strong 
word." 

"No  stronger  than  my  purpose,  I  swear.  I  have 
work  here  at  the  hacienda  which  will  occupy  me 
some  days.  I  assure  you  I  will  not  leave  until  the 
two  purposes  of  my  visit  have  been  accomplished." 

"You  bluster  as  though  you  were  in  a  court 
room,"  Suzanna  exclaimed.  "Small  thought  have 
I  for  what  brings  you  here.  Take  off  with  your 
ranting,  or  I  shall  cry  out  to  the  first  one  who 
passes." 

Unconsciously,  Suzanna  had  raised  her  voice 
until  it  had  attracted  the  attention  of  Don  Diego 
who  sat  in  his  study.  Coming  to  the  door,  he  saw 
Alvarez'  son,  and,  surmising  that  the  loud  talking 
which  he  had  heard  had  been  occasioned  by  the 
boy's  arrival,  led  him  into  the  house  without  further 
questioning. 

If  the  last  half-hour  had  been  unpleasant  for 
Suzanna,  it  had  been  none  the  less  so  for  Chiquita. 
She  and  Pancho  had  not  more  than  passed  from 
sight  of  the  house  before  she  said: 

"I  received  your  letter  this  morning." 


208  SUZANNA 


Pancho  had  glanced  at  her  keenly,  but  her  face 
was  turned  from  him,  and  he  could  not  determine 
her  expression.  Her  voice,  however,  was  casual 
enough.  He  replied: 

"Beautiful  one,  it  grieved  me  more  than  I  can 
express  to  write  that  letter;  but  I  love  you  too  much 
to  take  you  away  from  the  luxurious  life  to  which 
you  have  been  accustomed." 

This  concern  for  her  did  not  aid  in  restoring 
Chiquita's  good  humor. 

"But  you  said  at  one  time  that  my  father  would 
certainly  accept  you  as  a  son-in-law  after  we  were 
married,"  she  argued. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  Pancho  agreed,  "but  that  was 
before  I  knew  how  deeply  your  father  had  set  his 
heart  upon  your  marrying  Ramon." 

"But  I  have  no  intention  of  marrying  Ramon," 
the  girl  declared. 

"But  you  must,  my  sweetheart,"  Montesoro 
urged.  "It  is  your  father's  wish,  and  you  must 
abide  by  it.  Regardless  of  the  great  love  I  bear 
for  you,  and  you  for  me,  marriage  between  us  is 
impossible.  Your  father  would  surely  disinherit 
you,  and  as  I  have  nothing  more  to  offer  than  my 
love,  your  loss  would  be  too  great." 


CROSS  PURPOSES 209 

Pancho  was  exerting  himself  to  the  utmost  to 
be  convincing,  but  there  was  a  false  note  in  his 
voice  which  did  not  entirely  escape  Chiquita. 

"Why  do  you  speak  for  Ramon?"  she  asked  sus 
piciously.  "What  has  brought  about  this  sudden 
change  in  your  feeling  for  me?" 

"Do  you  doubt  my  love?"  Pancho  demanded 
angrily. 

"Oh,  no — no,"  Chiquita  hastened  to  reply. 
"Only " 

"Well  then,  there  is  no  reason  why  we  cannot 
be  friends  even  though  you  are  Gutierrez'  wife," 
Montesoro  went  on  ruthlessly.  "And  remember, — 
some  husbands  do  not  live  long." 

Chiquita  shot  a  startled  glance  at  the  man  as  she 
saw  him  pat  his  sword  meaningly.  This  willing 
ness  to  do  murder  did  not  satisfy  her.  She  wanted 
love,  not  violence.  Woman-like,  she  sensed  the 
gulf  which  had  opened  between  them,  and  it  was 
her  intention  to  bridge  it  at  once. 

"But  how  can  I  marry  a  man  whom  I  despise?" 
she  insisted. 

"It  is  your  father's  doing,  not  mine,"  Monte 
soro  protested.  "Had  I  the  least  to  offer  you,  I 
should  laugh  at  his  wishes.  Alas  that  I  am  impov- 


210  SUZANNA 


erished  to  the  point  where  I  am  forced  to  linger 
beneath  a  roof  where  I  am  no  longer  welcome. 
They  have  guessed  my  interest  in  you.  I  shall  take 
my  leave  soon.  This  morning  I  posted  word  to 
Monterey  agreeing  to  appear  in  the  bull-ring  this 
fall." 

Chiquita's  face  blanched  at  this. 

"You  mean  that  you  are  going  to  flaunt  your 
profession  in  my  father's  face?  Then,  indeed,  will 
he  be  done  with  you." 

"A  man  must  live;  and  there  are  those  who  hold 
it  no  disgrace  to  claim  a  torero  for  son-in-law." 

This  flat  declaration  carried  a  world  of  meaning 
to  the  girl.  She  became  obsessed  with  the  fear 
that  she  had  lost  the  man  forever.  For  the  first 
time,  Montesoro  found  tears  in  her  eyes;  and  if 
there  had  been  one  thing  necessary  to  turn  him 
completely  against  her,  this  was  it.  Chiquita  was 
not  without  cleverness,  and  she  realized  too  late 
that  she  played  a  losing  hand. 

The  ride  was  cut  short  as  a  consequence,  and  an 
hour  later  they  returned  to  the  house.  Neither 
spoke  as  they  rode  into  the  patio.  Montesoro 
caught  sight  of  Suzanna  sitting  upon  the  balcony 
outside  Chiquita's  window.  He  knew  he  was  be- 


CROSS  PURPOSES 211 

ing  watched.  Hardly  a  second  later,  Chiquita  saw 
the  girl,  and  her  bad  humor  increased  accordingly. 

"She's  a  fascinating  little  thing,"  Pancho  mut 
tered  to  his  companion  as  he  helped  her  down. 
"You  had  better  lose  no  time  with  Ramon,"  he 
warned. 

The  effect  of  this  was  to  send  the  girl  into  a 
violent  rage,  and  had  not  Don  Diego  and  Miguel 
came  toward  them,  Montesoro  would  have  paid  the 
penalty  for  his  words. 

Senor  de  Sola  greeted  the  man  cordially  and 
smiled  on  his  daughter.  "Already  one  arrives  for 
the  fiesta,'9  he  said  happily.  "Miguel  brings  you 
a  gift  from  his  father  and  himself." 

"You  should  be  very  happy,  Don  Diego," 
Pancho  observed  before  Chiquita  could  frame  a 
reply.  "I  was  just  congratulating  your  daughter 
on  the  very  pleasant  future  which  lies  before  her 
as  the  wife  of  Don  Ramon." 

Although  she  could  have  killed  the  man  for  his 
impudence,  Chiquita  bravely  managed  a  smile  as 
Don  Diego  took  her  into  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 
Almost  for  the  first  time  did  she  stop  to  contem 
plate  the  magnitude  of  the  debt  which  she  owed 
him.  It  left  her  weak,  impotent  in  her  anger. 


212  SUZANNA 


Fear  swooped  down  upon  her  as  she  entered  the 
house.  She  was  afraid  to  ask  herself  what  her  fate 
would  be  should  this  man,  who  had  done  so  much 
for  love  of  her,  learn  the  truth. 

Don  Diego  little  guessed  the  agony  which  pos 
sessed  the  girl.  Nor  did  she  see  the  mist  which 
swam  in  his  eyes  as  she  impulsively  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  pulled  down  his  head  to  whis 
per  into  his  ear: 

"Father, — do  not  let  us  delay  the  day." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   PRICE   OF  FEAR 

MIGUEL  did  his  best  to  make  the  most  of  the 
opportunities  his  stay  at  the  hacienda  afforded  him; 
but  the  day  of  the  fiesta  arrived  without  his  having 
succeeded  in  turning  Suzanna's  wrath.  The  boy 
dreaded  to  see  his  father  come.  From  experience, 
he  knew  that  excuses  carried  little  weight  with  him. 
And  although  Miguel  was  not  the  only  one  on  the 
two  haciendas  whose  heart  was  sorely  tried,  it  is 
true  that  he  alone  failed  to  respond  to  the  excite 
ment  of  the  day. 

Don  Diego  had  spared  no  expense  in  the  prepa 
rations  for  the  fiesta.  Ladies  and  gentlemen  came 
from  as  far  away  as  Monterey  to  wish  him  well. 
Steers  had  been  slaughtered  and  prepared  for  the 
barbecue;  vegetables  and  fruits  gathered;  wines 
brought  forth  and  tested;  flowers  plucked  and 
woven  into  garlands  to  decorate  pillars  and  tables. 

At  sun-up  many  quarters  of  beef  has  been  placed 
upon  the  spits  to  roast;  steer  heads,  properly 

213 


214  SUZANNA 


wrapped  to  insure  that  appetizing  flavor  which  only 
barbecued  meat  possesses,  buried  among  the  glow 
ing  coals;  while  in  the  outdoor  ovens  tortillas  in 
squadrons  began  to  brown. 

As  the  morning  advanced,  the  guests  came  in 
greater  numbers  until  noon-time  found  more  than 
a  hundred  merrymakers  gathered  on  the  hacienda. 
Don  Diego's  servants  moved  among  them  with  food 
and  drink.  Small  attention  was  paid  to  the  wants 
of  the  inner  man  at  this  time.  The  feasting  would 
come  after  an  afternoon  of  games;  of  feats  of 
strength  for  the  young  men;  of  horsemanship  for 
the  skilled  riders;  and  of  gambling,  true  to  relate, 
for  older  heads.  The  crowd  was  anxious  to  be  at 
its  play,  and  sounds  of  laughter  and  excitement 
filled  the  patio  and  compound. 

Suzanna  had  not  been  able  to  resist  the  spirit 
of  the  occasion.  She  had  attended  many  similar 
fiestas  at  the  surrounding  ranches,  and  her  ac 
quaintances  were  many.  Once  free  of  her  duties, 
she  mingled  with  the  throng  and  soon  her  merry 
laughter  drove  the  frowns  from  her  face. 

Ramon  happened  to  catch  sight  of  her,  and  he 
grinned  to  himself  at  seeing  her  so  happy  again. 


THE  PRICE  OF  FEAR 215 

For  the  first  time  in  days  he  found  her  the  Suzanna 
of  old. 

Senor  Alvarez  had  scolded  his  son  most  roundly 
for  having  failed  to  make  progress  with  the  girl. 
He  promptly  ordered  Miguel  to  make  haste  and 
take  advantage  of  this  day  which  was  to  order  for 
swains.  Miguel  had  not  dared  to  dissent.  Suzanna 
had  shaken  him  off  several  times  already,  and  as 
Ramon  watched,  he  saw  the  boy  approach  her 
again.  This  time,  Suzanna  boxed  his  ears  and 
called  down  upon  him  the  laughter  of  the  crowd. 
Ridicule,  heaped  on  in  such  generous  portioning, 
was  more  than  Miguel  could  stand,  and  father  or 
not,  he  beat  his  retreat. 

Ramon  smiled  at  the  boy's  chagrin,  although  he 
half-suspected  that  Miguel  had  serious  designs  on 
Suzanna,  so  persistent  had  he  been  these  last  days. 
But  Miguel  was  not  of  a  cut  to  arouse  jealousy  in 
the  breast  of  a  lover. 

One  other,  Montesoro,  grinned,  too;  but  more 
from  a  sense  of  relief  than  from  pleasure.  He  had 
found  Miguel  in  his  way  wherever  he  chanced  on 
Suzanna,  and  he  had  accepted  him  as  a  rival,  even 
though  an  awkward  one.  Pancho  was  wise  enough 


216  SUZANNA 


to  take  a  leaf  from  Miguel's  book,  and  accordingly, 
he  left  Suzanna  to  her  own  devices. 

Arm  in  arm  with  his  loyal  friend,  Don  Fer 
nando,  Don  Diego  walked  among  his  guests  with 
a  warm  word  for  each.  The  upset  condition  of  the 
province  was  forgotten.  Here  was  plenty  for  all; 
and  no  man  so  mean  but  he  was  welcome.  Even 
a  dusty  friar  traveling  Montereyward  by  foot  was 
urged  to  tarry,  and  offered  food  and  wine. 

Upon  the  wide  portico  of  the  large  house  Dona 
Luz  and  Chiquita  mingled  with  other  ladies  of  high 
estate.  Ramon's  mother  found  the  girl  unduly 
thoughtful  of  her. 

Chiquita  was  most  anxious  to  appear  at  her  best. 
The  fear  that  her  secret  would  find  her  out  had 
been  fanned  by  misgivings  of  one  sort  or  another 
until  her  heart  missed  a  beat  every  time  some  one 
spoke  suddenly  to  her. 

Long  before  the  sounding  of  a  gong  announced 
that  the  feast  was  ready,  savory  odors  from  the  pits 
had  whetted  the  appetites  of  the  merrymakers. 
Eagerly,  then,  they  gathered  around  the  festive 
board  and  toasted  their  host  with  a  rare  wine  of 
his  own  vintage. 

Don  Diego  was  a  proud  and  happy  man  as  he 


THE  PRICE  OF  FEAR 217 

faced  his  guests, — Chiquita  at  his  left,  Dona  Luz 
at  his  right.  The  girl's  excitement  had  sent  a  high 
color  to  her  cheeks  and  she  was  radiant.  Don 
Diego  glanced  at  her  approvingly  as  the  meal  pro 
gressed,  unaware  of  the  unhappiness  which 
clutched  her. 

A  platform  had  been  built  for  dancing,  and  now 
the  musicians  appeared  and  launched  forth  on  the 
jota.  Almost  immediately  a  young  couple  ran  to 
the  platform  and  began  dancing.  When  they  had 
finished,  another  couple  re-placed  them;  then  an 
other  and  another. 

Finally  the  music  changed,  and  now  poured 
forth  a  sharper  melody.  Suddenly  Suzanna  darted 
from  the  edge  of  the  crowd  to  the  dancing  floor. 

Sprightly,  agile, — as  light  on  her  feet  as  the 
gentle  summer's-evening  breeze — Suzanna  floated 
over  the  ground,  her  lithe  body  swaying  from  side 
to  side,  her  slender  legs  flashing  now  and  again 
from  within  the  be-ruffled  skirts  that  encompassed 
them.  Around  and  around  glided  the  girl,  her  eyes 
sparkling,  her  lips  half-apart,  her  body  rhythmi 
cally  swaying  from  side  to  side. 

From  within  the  crowd  came  a  hat,  tossed  by  a 
hopeful  caballero — hopeful  that  Suzanna  would 


218  SUZANNA 


accept  him  for  her  partner.  But  Suzanna  kicked 
the  hat  aside  disdainfully.  Instantly  it  was  re 
placed  by  another,  and  still  another.  Each  was 
accorded  the  same  treatment.  Pancho's  beautiful 
sombrero  found  its  way  to  a  point  in  front  of 
Suzanna.  With  even  more  disdain  than  she  had 
accorded  the  others,  she  kicked  it  aside. 

Ramon  had  watched  Suzanna  dance  with  a  smile 
on  his  lips.  When  Suzanna  had  disdained  Pancho's 
challenge,  he  grinned  happily,  arose  from  his  seat 
beside  Chiquita,  removed  his  sword  and  its  scab 
bard,  and  picking  up  his  sombrero,  tossed  it  toward 
Suzanna.  She  recognized  it,  and  without  stopping, 
circled  around  and  about  it,  swaying  and  gliding 
with  all  the  abandon  of  a  healthy  young  animal. 
Then,  for  an  instant,  she  paused,  and  deliberately 
jumped  upon  Ramon's  hat.  She  had  accepted  his 
challenge! 

Without  more  ado,  Ramon  left  Chiquita's  side, 
and  joined  Suzanna.  There  before  the  gathered 
multitude  they  stood, — hands  raised  above  their 
heads,  gazing  into  each  other's  eyes. 

The  music  resumed,  and  the  crowd  held  its 
breath,  for  though  Suzanna  had  danced  with  sur 
passing  grace  alone,  she  outdid  herself  now.  Ap- 


THE  PRICE  OF  FEAR  219 

parently  each  had  forgotten  those  gathered  about 
them.  Poetry  was  in  every  motion  of  their  bodies. 
Alert,  eyes  flashing,  the  intoxicating  music  carried 
them  on  and  on  until  they  seemed  to  be  drawn  out 
of  themselves,  holding  each  other  by  the  spell  of 
their  eyes  alone. 

It  was  interpretive  dancing  without  being  in 
tended  as  such.  Pancho  read  its  story;  but  not 
less  clearly  than  did  Chiquita.  Intuition  told  her 
that  these  two  loved  each  other  as  few  men  and 
women  do.  It  was  in  every  step  they  took.  Were 
these  others  blind  that  they  did  not  see  it? 

The  girl's  hatred  of  Suzanna  overwhelmed  her 
as  she  watched.  Horrified,  she  asked  herself  if 
this  was  but  like  finding  like.  For  all  of  her  low 
position,  did  Ramon  find,  sub-consciously,  in  Su 
zanna,  the  lady,  and  in  herself,  the  peon? 

She  would  have  laughed  had  any  one  told  her 
she  could  be  jealous  of  Ramon;  and  yet  jealousy 
gripped  her  now.  Pancho's  lightly  turned  warn 
ing  came  back  to  her.  What  would  she  do  if 
Ramon  took  it  into  his  head  to  run  away  with 
Suzanna?  The  thought  threw  her  into  a  panic. 
Without  considering  the  consequences  of  her  act, 
she  grasped  the  arm  of  Don  Diego,  who  had  been 


220  SUZANNA 


watching  the  dancers,  an  indulgent  smile  on  his 
face. 

"Father,"  she  murmured  brokenly,  "It  is  my 
wish  that  you  announce  my  bethrothal  publicly 
to-night." 

Don  Diego's  happiness  engulfed  him.  Tears 
came  to  his  eyes  as  he  pressed  the  girl  to  him. 

"What  a  wonderful  moment,"  he  murmured. 
"You  make  this  a  real  fiesta  for  me.  Mother 
Church  shall  publish  the  bans  at  once." 

Don  Fernando  and  Dona  Luz  greeted  the  good 
news  with  evident  happiness. 

"And  shall  we  set  a  day  for  the  wedding?"  Don 
Fernando  asked  eagerly. 

Chiquita  bowed  her  head  in  assent.  "It  will 
please  me  to  marry  your  son  as  soon  as  the  Church 
permits." 

Don  Fernando  kissed  her  fatherly.  "It  can  be 
arranged,"  he  announced.  "We  have  waited  over- 
long  already.  Is  a  week  from  to-day  too  soon?" 

"It  is  quite  agreeable  to  me,"  Chiquita  answered 
humbly.  "My  father  presented  me  with  a  most 
wonderful  trousseau  before  we  left  Mexico  City." 

"Then  it  is  arranged!"  exclaimed  Don  Diego, 


THE  PRICE  OF  FEAR 221 

a  broad  smile  on  his  face.  "The  other  matters  can 
be  attended  to  in  time." 

Don  Fernando's  eyes  swept  the  room  in  search 
of  his  son.  Ramon  and  Suzanna  had  just  finished 
their  dance,  and  the  girl  was  seated  upon  his  knee 
now,  out  of  breath. 

The  crowd  made  way  for  Don  Fernando  who, 
without  considering  Suzanna,  took  Ramon  by  the 
arm  and  led  him  toward  the  table  where  Chiquita, 
Don  Diego  and  Dona  Luz  were  waiting.  The 
crowd,  sensing  something  out  of  the  ordinary, 
closed  in  behind  them.  And  poor  Suzanna,  startled 
out  of  a  year's  growth,  was  left  alone  in  the  center 
of  the  floor,  trying  to  imagine  what  the  trouble 
might  be.  She  was  not  long  in  doubt,  for  above 
the  murmuring  of  the  crowd,  Don  Diego's  soft 
voice  arose  portentously. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "this  is  one  of  the  hap 
piest  moments  of  my  life.  I  take  infinite  pleasure 
in  informing  you  that  my  daughter  Chiquita  wishes 
her  betrothal  to  Don  Ramon,  son  of  my  beloved 
friend,  Don  Fernando,  announced  this  night.  And 
further,  that  the  wedding  shall  take  place  one  week 
from  this  day.  Will  you  drink  with  me,  my 
friends,  to  their  unending  happiness?" 


222  SUZANNA 


A  great  cry  arose  as  this  startling  news  swept 
over  the  room.  Goblets  were  held  aloft  and  their 
contents  drained  with  avidity.  Ladies  and  gentle 
men,  peons,  ,  unlettered  Indians, — all  crowded 
about  the  betrothed  couple  and  their  parents,  show 
ering  them  with  congratulations  and  good-will. 

Dumbly,  Ramon  heard  himself  addressed  and 
complimented.  His  mumbled  replies  were  unin 
telligible  to  both  his  friends  and  himself.  The  sud 
denness  with  which  he  had  been  plunged  to  the 
depths  left  him  helpless.  With  eyes  hard,  his  lips 
compressed  as  his  teeth  sank  into  them,  he  sent  an 
appealing  glance  toward  the  spot  where  he  had 
.left  Suzanna.  But  Suzanna  did  not  catch  the  look, 
for  fainting,  she  had  sank  to  her  knees;  and  as 
Ramon  stared,  he  saw  Pancho  lift  her  to  her  feet 
and  lead  her  out  into  the  patio. 

Chiquita  caught  the  look  on  Ramon's  face,  and 
felt  well  repaid  for  what  her  decision  cost  her. 

Montesoro's  interest  in  Suzanna,  however,  did 
not  rest  so  well  with  her.  Her  keen  eyes  had  seen 
how  tenderly  he  had  lifted  the  girl  to  her  feet. 
The  protecting  arm  which  he  had  placed  about  her 
as  he  led  her  from  the  room  hinted  at  more  than 
the  courtesy  of  a  gentleman  to  one  who  was  socially 


THE  PRICE  OF  FEAR 223 

his  inferior.  A  tragic  thought  swept  through  Chi- 
quita's  brain  as  she  considered  this.  Was  it  pos 
sible  that  the  man  was  in  love  with  that  peon?  Had 
she  bewitched  him  as  she  had  Ramon?  Could  it 
be  possible  that  Pancho  had  spurned  her  so  that  he 
could  advance  his  position  with  her  maid? 

The  thought  continued  to  grow  on  her  as  she 
faced  it,  and  she  was  more  than  pleased  when  Don 
Diego,  who  having  noticed  her  nervousness,  sug 
gested  that  she  excuse  herself  to  her  guests.  Alone 
in  her  room,  Chiquita's  emotion  overcame  her,  but 
she  consoled  herself  with  one  thought.  Come  what 
may,  she  had  Ramon. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
"THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE." 

SUZANNA'S  heart  was  breaking  as  Montesoro  led 
her  to  a  bench  in  the  moonlit  garden  and  sat  down 
beside  her.  And  though  her  lips  quivered,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  her  eyes  were  dry.  Don  Diego's 
announcement  had  sounded  the  knell  of  dreams 
which  she  had  not  known  were  her  life's  blood. 

Pancho  knew  what  she  was  passing  through,  and 
as  immeasurable  as  his  ego  was,  he  rose  above  it 
now  and  consoled  her  as  best  he  could.  Fate 
played  into  his  hands  this  once,  for  inasmuch  as 
he  was  the  only  one  who  seemed  to  care  what  hap 
pened  to  her,  Suzanna  warmed  to  him  as  most 
human  beings  would  have  done  in  the  same  cir 
cumstance. 

For  the  first  time,  Montesoro  saw  that  his  tender 
ness  toward  her  was  not  repulsed.  With  rare  wis 
dom  he  kept  from  trying  to  advance  his  own  cause 
by  word  of  mouth;  and  not  until  Suzanna  had 

found  relief  in  tears  did  he  try  to  influence  her. 

224 


"THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE"          225 

"But  surely  you  had  been  warned  that  this  was 
to  happen,"  he  murmured  softly.  "That  it  came 
to-night,  Suzanna,  was  largely  your  fault." 

"My — my — fault?"  Suzanna  asked  between 
sobs. 

"Yes.  I  guessed  it  some  time  before  Don  Diego 
spoke.  Chiquita's  eyes  never  left  you  as  you 
danced  with  Ramon.  She  saw  the  truth  in  a  flash. 
If  ever  jealousy  swept  a  woman  off  her  feet  it  did 
to-night.  I  know  her  better  than  you  suppose. 
She's  got  the  temper  of  a  fiend." 

"Well  I  know  it,"  Suzanna  answered,  staring 
off  into  space. 

"Do  you  think  that  I  would  have  come  all  the 
way  from  Mexico  City  to  be  near  her  if  I  had 
known  that  she  was  betrothed  to  another  man? 
Even  though  I  am  not  the  son  of  a  blueblood,  I 
bow  my  head  to  none.  She  but  played  with  me  at 
first,  and  I  knew  it.  I  swore  to  myself  that  I  would 
humble  her,  and  I  did.  She  begged  me, — actually 
begged  me  to  run  away  with  her." 

Pancho's  speech  grew  so  vehement  that  Suzanna 
looked  at  him  rather  fearfully. 

"Maybe  you  can  understand,  now,  why  she  hates 
and  despises  me,"  he  went  on.  "She  was  ripe  for 


226  SUZANNA 


what  happened  to-night.  She  knew  she  had  lost 
me,  and  I  could  see  her  asking  herself  if  you,  a 
peon,  were  to  steal  this  other  man  away  from  her. 
She  thinks  to  hurt  me,  too." 

Pancho  laughed  at  the  impossibility  of  it. 

"When  she  learns  that  it  is  you  whom  I  really 
love  she  will  die  of  hatred." 

"Oh,  hush,"  Suzanna  begged  as  he  reached  for 
her  hand.  "Please  don't." 

"It's  the  truth,  and  you  know  it.  Surely,  Su 
zanna,  you  did  not  expect  Ramon  to  renounce  the 
empire  which  will  be  his  when  his  father  dies,  or 
to  disregard  the  fact  that  you  are  of  peon  stock. 
No!  In  the  short  time  that  I  have  been  here  I  have 
seen  that  Don  Fernando  sets  more  store  by  his 
lineage  than  he  does  by  his  wealth.  The  boy  has 
been  brought  up  to  believe  the  same.  He  is  only 
a  human  being,  Suzanna, — you  ask  too  much  of 
him." 

The  man  but  echoed  her  own  thoughts,  so 
Suzanna  could  do  naught  but  nod  her  head  af 
firmatively. 

"Don't  think  that  Ramon  does  not  care  for  you," 
he  declared  with  fervor.  "He  does!  The  asso 
ciations  of  childhood,  the  many  happy  hours  you 


"THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE"          227 

spent  together, — he  is  not  deaf  to  them.  But"  and 
Pancho  shook  his  head  sadly,  "it  is  not  the  affec 
tion  a  man  has  for  a  woman  without  whom  life 
is  impossible.  If  what  I  say  is  not  true,  do  you 
think  he  would  have  left  you  alone  to-night  with 
out  a  word?  When  a  man  loves,  as  I  love  you, 
he  would  do  anything  to  win  the  heart  of  her  whom 
he  adores, — and  not  count  the  cost,  either." 

Suzanna  glanced  at  him  beseechingly. 

"Please,"  she  entreated,  "Do  not  talk  of  love  ta 
me  to-night.  My  heart  is  far  too  heavy  to  listen." 
,  "Forgive  me,"  Pancho  begged.  "My  own  heart 
breaks  to  see  you  so  unhappy.  I  want  to  take  you 
into  my  arms  and  caress  you  and  drive  your  tears 
away.  But  here  I  sit,  helpless  before  you." 

And  because  she  was  so  distraught  and  because 
the  man  revealed  himself  so  different  from  what 
he  had  been,  Suzanna  gave  him  her  hand.  The 
man's  eagerness  almost  overcame  him.  He  but 
pressed  it  tenderly. 

"You  have  seen  me  at  my  worst,"  he  said  halt 
ingly  as  he  got  to  his  feet.  "I  am  done  with  idling. 
My  one  thought  from  now  on  is  to  make  myself 
worthy  of  you,  for  come  what  may  I  shall  make 


228  SUZANNA 


you  my  wife,  Suzanna.  And  now,  if  you  are  com 
posed,  we  will  go  back  to  the  others." 

"Leave  me  alone  here,  please,  for  a  few 
minutes,"  Suzanna  replied.  "I  want  to  be  by  my 
self  for  a  moment  or  two." 

Pancho  bowed,  and  with  a  fervent  word,  went 
back  to  the  house.  The  man  had  reason  to  con 
gratulate  himself.  He  had  not  made  a  single 
mis-step. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"l  WOULD  SERVE  YOU  WELL." 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  the  poor  friar,  who 
had  been  invited  to  join  the  guests  of  Don  Diego, 
had  partaken  too  often  of  his  host's  rare  wines,  and 
in  consequence,  he  had  sought  refuge  in  a  shady 
bower  within  the  patio  some  time  since.  For  one 
who  was  supposed  to  have  succumbed  to  the  sprites 
which  lurk  in  the  flowing  bowl,  he  had  taken  a  very 
keen  interest  in  what  went  on  between  Suzanna  and 
Montesoro.  The  stillness  of  the  garden  made  it 
no  great  task  to  overhear  what  had  been  said.  He 
sat  now  with  a  puzzled  frown  upon  his  broad  fea 
tures.  The  man  was  plainly  nettled,  and  most  cer 
tainly  not  the  worse  for  liquor.  He  was  seated  so 
that  he  could  study  the  girl  as  she  sat  by  herself, 
lost  in  her  thoughts.  It  was  while  engaged  in  this 
pleasant  occupation  that  Alvarez  and  Miguel  came 
into  the  patio.  They  entered  by  a  side  door  which 
led  them  onto  a  path  that  wound  by  the  bower  in 

which  the  humble  padre  sat. 

229 


230  SUZANNA 


The  friar  closed  his  eyes  and  resumed  his  snor 
ing  as  the  two  approached  him.  Senor  Alvarez 
was  speaking  as  Miguel  caught  sight  of  the  man 
and  cautioned  his  father  accordingly. 

'  Tis  but  a  drunken  friar,  who  half -starved 
from  his  infernal  fasting  has  fallen  an  easy  prey 
to  Don  Diego's  cellar,"  Alvarez  assured  his  son. 
"Come,  find  Suzanna.  She  is  alone  here  some 
where.  There, — do  you  see  her?"  Alvarez  looked 
at  Miguel  for  an  answering  nod.  "Well,  remember 
she  is  in  a  mood  for  kind  words.  Do  not  scold  her 
for  daring  to  raise  her  eyes  to  Ramon.  Use  di 
plomacy, — be  affable,  remind  her  that  she  would 
do  well  to  accept  your  name." 

Alvarez  paused,  and  then  in  a  voice  which  car 
ried  its  own  threat  he  warned: 

"Do  not  forget  what  I  said  to  you  in  Monterey. 
You  must  win  her.  If  you  fail  to  make  her  your 
wife  I  shall  cut  you  off  without  a  cent.  Some  boys 
with  half  your  prospects  would  lead  her  to  the 
altar  in  less  time  that  it  takes  to  tell  it.  Do  not 
come  back  to  me  with  more  excuses." 

Miguel  had  no  protest  to  make.  He  had  long 
since  exhausted  argument.  For  some  unknown 
reason  his  father  had  doomed  him  to  the  fate  ahead 


"I  WOULD  SERVE  YOU  WELL"     231 

of  him,  and  he  was  powerless  to  do  aught  but  pro 
ceed  as  he  was  ordered. 

The  snoring  friar  sat  erect  immediately  that  he 
was  alone.  First  making  sure  that  Alvarez  had 
actually  returned  to  the  house,  he  sat  himself  to 
watch  the  movements  of  Miguel. 

Suzanna,  weary  in  body  and  soul,  greeted  the 
boy  as  though  he  were  another  torture  which  she 
had  to  bear.  Miguel  began  his  protestations  at 
once,  and  the  girl,  too  weary  to  stop  him,  permitted 
him  to  run  on  without  interruption. 

What  he  said  was  lost  on  Suzanna.  She  was 
aware  of  it  only  as  one  is  conscious  of  the  droning 
of  a  bee.  The  boy  began  to  realize  as  much,  and 
he  stopped  short. 

"Won't  you  even  answer  me?"  he  demanded 
humbly. 

"Yes,  go!"  Suzanna  snapped.  "Get  out!  Leave 
me  alone!  I  am  wearied  to  death  with  your  chat 
tering." 

"But  my  father,"  Miguel  protested.  "I  have 
got  to  marry  you.  He  demands  it." 

"What, — your  father?"  demanded  Suzanna, 
showing  interest  for  the  first  time  in  the  boy's 


232  SUZANNA 


words.  "What  fool's  talk  is  this?  Why  should 
your  father  insist  that  you  marry  me?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  the  unhappy  Miguel  replied. 
"He  sent  me  here." 

"Well,  I'll  send  you  back  to  him!  And  tell  him 
that  I  would  not  marry  you  if  you  were  the  last 
man  in  the  world.  Tell  him  that  I  am  promised 
to  another,"  Suzanna  lied  as  she  sent  the  boy  away. 
"Tell  him  anything  you  please;  but  this  for  you, — 
if  you  come  near  me  again  I  shall  let  Timoteo  claw 
your  eyes  out." 

The  friar  sat  where  he  was  for  some  time  after 
Miguel  had  gone.  Tears  were  stealing  down  Su- 
zanna's  cheeks,  and  when  the  sound  of  her  crying 
reached  him,  he  got  up,  and  after  pulling  his  hood 
low  over  his  head,  walked  toward  her. 

Suzanna  heard  the  pebbles  crunching  under  his 
feet  as  he  approached,  and  she  looked  up  at  him 
as  he  stopped  in  front  of  her. 

"Child,"  he  said  kindly,  "you  seem  most  un 
happy,  and  that  too  amidst  scenes  of  great  gayety. 
Allow  me  to  solace  you." 

Without  further  ado  he  took  the  seat  Miguel 
had  so  recently  quitted,  and  turning  toward  Su 
zanna  found  her  staring  at  him  curiously. 


"I  WOULD  SERVE  YOU  WELL"     233 

"Your  voice  is  strangely  familiar,  good  padre," 
she  exclaimed.  "By  what  name  are  you  called?" 

"Lores, — Padre  Lores,  my  child,"  the  friar  re 
plied.  "From  yonder  bower  I  have  seen  you  dis 
miss  two  young  men  within  the  last  half  hour; 
both  of  whom  seemed  most  intent  on  winning  your 
favor.  And  yet  from  experience  with  youth  do  I 
know  that  only  a  young  man  can  be  the  excuse  for 
the  tears  which  I  see  in  your  eyes.  Tell  me,  wrhat 
manner  of  man  can  he  be  to  seek  for  fairer  face 
than  yours?" 

The  friar  had  taken  Suzanna's  hand  within  his 
own,  and  he  petted  it  gently  as  he  waited  for  her 
to  reply.  The  man's  presence  seemed  to  give  her 
comfort,  and  without  knowing  why,  she  found  her 
self  anxious  to  talk  to  him. 

"He  is  a  noble  gentleman,  Padre  Lores,"  Su- 
zanna  murmured  wistfully.  "I — as  you  see  from 
my  clothes — am  a  peon.  I  have  wrought  my  own 
unhappiness.  I  should  have  known  that  the  lib 
erties  allowed  me  in  childhood  were  only  indul 
gences  to  a  child ;  that  the  barrier  against  my  class 
would  be  raised  as  I  approached  womanhood." 

"You  almost  tell  me  the  gentleman's  name.  For 
what  should  send  you  away  from  the  gay  throng 


234  SUZANNA 


inside  but  the  announcement  of  the  betrothal?" 

The  friar  was  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  off 
at  the  distant  hills  outlined  by  the  rising  moon. 
Suzanna  thought  she  felt  a  tremor  pass  through 
his  body. 

"And  you  love  him  so?"  he  asked  tenderly. 

"More  than  I  can  say,"  Suzanna  replied  so  softly 
that  Padre  Lores  had  to  bend  close  to  catch  her 
words. 

The  friar  muttered  to  himself  as  he  repeated  the 
girl's  words. 

"And  this  young  gentleman, — has  he  no  thought 
for  you?  Does  he  hold  his  wealth  and  position 
dearer  than  his  love  for  you?  Time  there  was 
when  men  sacrificed  their  all  for  love.  It  seems 
to  me  'twere  easy  to  steal  away  in  this  broad  coun 
try;  to  find  a  priest;  yes,  and  to  win  a  livelihood 
had  one  the  courage." 

"The  thought  is  not  priestly,  Padre  Lores,"  Suz 
anna  exclaimed.  "Would  you  advise  a  worthy  son 
to  desert  his  parents ;  to  turn  his  back  on  a  princely 
fortune;  to  contract  a  mixed  marriage?" 

"Indeed  I  would!"  the  friar  declared  emphati 
cally.  "Were  I  this  boy,  I  would  dare  the  devil 
himself  for  you!  And  this  talk  of  mixed  mar- 


"I  WOULD  SERVE  YOU  WELL"     235 

riages, — what  does  it  amount  to?  I  have  watched 
you,  and  I  have  seen  you  more  the  lady  than  those 
who  so  loudly  proclaim  themselves  such.  There 
is  no  place  here  for  the  cant  and  narrowness  of 
Spain.  This  is  a  new  land.  I  love  it;  and  I  have 
gloried  in  spoiling  the  schemes  of  those  who  try 
to  perpetuate  the  injustices  of  Mexico  and  Spain 
within  its  borders." 

In  his  excitement  Padre  Lores'  hood  had  fallen 
about  his  shoulders.  The  moon  was  high  enough 
to  cast  her  light  into  the  patio,  and  his  face  was 
boldly  outlined.  Suzanne's  hands  went  to  her  heart 
as  she  recognized  him. 

"No  wonder  I  recognized  your  voice,"  she 
gasped.  "You  are  no  priest  at  all.  You  are  Benito 
Perez!" 

"What  use  to  deny  the  truth?"  Perez  asked. 
"But  I  beg  of  you,  do  not  whisper  the  name  again. 
And  think  not,  little  one,  that  I  have  tricked  you. 
I  have  waited  since  noon  for  a  word  with  you. 
Give  over  any  evil  thought  you  have  toward  me, 
for  I  would  serve  you  as  few  men  would.  You 
are  not  for  me, — 'tis  my  great  regret;  but  I  am  no 
less  your  servant." 


236  SUZANNA 


"But  what  do  you  here?"  Suzanna  questioned 
nervously. 

"A — matter  of  business,"  Perez  answered  non- 
committally.  "But  let  us  talk  of  yourself.  I  over 
heard  that  bootlicking  Alvarez  tell  his  son  that  if 
he  failed  to  wed  you  that  he  would  cut  him  off 
without  a  cent.  I  see  that  is  not  news  to  you.  But 
does  it  not  strike  you  as  strange  that  the  father, 
who  has  ever  tried  for  money  and  position,  should 
force  his  son  to  wed  you,  a  penniless  peon?" 

"I  thought  the  boy  but  talked  words.  Now,  that 
you  state  it  for  the  truth,  I  am  amazed.  What 
reason  can  the  man  have?" 

"Be  sure  he  has  one,  and  to  his  advantage,  too," 
Perez  warned.  "The  man  lives  by  scheming.  The 
world  allows  me  some  sense  of  cleverness;  but  I 
am  dull  this  once,  or  else  the  man  is  overly  sharp. 
I  would  go  to  no  little  trouble  to  spoil  any  plan  of 
his;  and  I  swear  to  you  that  I  shall  have  his  secret. 
But  now  the  guests  are  leaving,  and  you'll  be 
looked  for,  little  one.  Go  back  to  your  friends. 
Remember,  I  am  never  far  away.  A  word  from 
you  and  I  will  come  no  matter  the  risk.  And  take 
courage ;  for  no  man  is  married  until  the  priest  has 


"I  WOULD  SERVE  YOU  WELL"     237 

done  with  him.  Your  eyes  are  too  pretty  for  tears. 
Reward  me  with  a  smile  before  you  go." 

The  personality  of  the  bandit  won  her  respect. 
She  knew  him  for  a  man  of  action,  of  truth.  Many 
far  greater  than  she  would  have  counted  themselves 
fortunate  to  have  claimed  his  friendship.  The 
smile  she  gave  him,  he  won  from  her;  but  of  her 
own  accord,  she  offered  the  man  her  hand,  and 
Perez  bowed  low  over  it  as  he  brushed  it  with  his 
lips. 

He  followed  her  with  his  eyes  until  she  entered 
the  house.  He  permitted  himself  a  moment's  re 
trospection  before  he  moved  on.  Suzanna  stirred 
the  best  that  was  within  him. 

"Holy  Mother,"  he  breathed  half -aloud,  "she  is 
worth  it.  I  shall  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  bring 
her  happiness;  and  if  my  Lord  Gutierrez  does  not 
take  her  to  wife,  it  will  be  through  no  fault  of 


mine." 


The  time  for  sentiment  this  night  was  at  an  end 
with  Perez.  Business  had  brought  him  to  the  haci 
enda;  although  it  was  business  of  a  nefarious  na 
ture.  Such  as  it  was,  the  moment  to  busy  himself 
with  it  had  arrived,  and  he  dismissed  Suzanna  from 
his  thoughts.  So  while  others  slept,  he  toiled. 


238  SUZANNA 


And  in  the  morning  Don  Diego  found  that  Padre 
Lores  had  disappeared;  and  also,  sad  to  relate, 
most  of  the  de  Sola  silver.  Its  loss  so  absorbed 
Don  Diego's  attention  that  he  did  not  notice  until 
hours  later  that  his  very  dear  friend,  the  Senor 
Alvarez  was  also  missing.  Pinned  to  the  man's 
bedroom  door  by  a  heavy-handled  knife  was  this 
note: 

"Senor  Alvarez  has  heen  called  to  the  court  of  last 
resort.  PEREZ." 


CHAPTER  XX 

"iT  WILL  LEAD  TO  YOUR  DEATH!" 

DON  DIEGO  and  Don  Fernando  organized  their 
best  men  immediately  and  scoured  the  hills  for 
Perez.  Nothing  came  of  it,  for  the  good  reason 
that  the  vaqueros  had  no  personal  quarrel  with  the 
bandit.  In  secret,  they  admired,  even  worshiped 
the  man.  How  else  could  he  have  roamed  the 
countryside  at  will  these  many  years?  Perez  had 
foreseen  that  he  would  be  harried  sore  for  this  ex 
ploit,  and  he  had  put  many  miles  between  himself 
and  the  hacienda  before  daybreak. 

The  excitement  which  the  man  left  behind  him 
threatened  to  delay  Chiquita's  wedding.  Even  Don 
Diego  suggested  it  to  her;  but  the  girl  would  not 
listen  to  such  an  arrangement.  A  week  was  a  short 
enough  time  in  which  to  make  ready;  and  now 
that  two  days  had  been  lost  in  chasing  Perez,  the 
time  remaining  had  needs  be  taken  advantage  of 

in  every  way. 

239 


240  SUZANNA 


Don  Diego  repaired  to  Monterey  at  once,  Don 
Fernando  and  his  wife  accompanying  him.  An 
orgy  of  buying  followed.  And  while  they  were 
gone,  things  went  on  without  a  wasted  moment  at 
the  hacienda.  Don  Fernando  had  loaned  his  friend 
a  score  of  servants,  captained  by  Ruiz.  The  man 
could  be  relied  on  to  get  the  most  out  of  his  men. 

Don  Fernando,  though,  had  noted  a  change  in 
his  old  servitor.  The  man  had  not  shown  the  in 
terest  in  Ramon's  wedding  that  his  master  had  ex 
pected  of  him.  Ruiz'  face  was  seldom  pleasant  to 
see,  but  this  last  day  or  two,  he  had  worn  the  look 
of  one  about  to  be  sent  to  his  death. 

In  Ruiz'  mind  no  less  a  catastrophe  impended. 
But  he  was  between  fires.  A  word  from  him  and 
this  wedding  would  never  take  place.  But  how 
could  he  utter  that  word?  Death,  indeed,  stared 
at  him  if  he  did.  As  the  days  wore  on,  he  went 
to  bed  with  the  firm  resolve  to  speak  to  Don  Fer 
nando  in  the  morning;  but  when  morning  came,  he 
always  found  it  expedient  to  wait  until  evening. 
And  so,  whatever  courage  he  possessed  failed  him, 
and  helpless,  he  waited  for  the  inevitable  to 
happen. 

Miguel  had  seized  his  father's  dilemma  as  fit- 


"IT  WILL  LEAD  TO  YOUR  DEATH!"  241 

ting  excuse  for  turning  from  his  conquest  of  Su- 
zanna.  But  although  the  boy  made  a  great  show 
of  searching  for  his  parent,  it  is  all  too  true  that 
he  took  exceeding  care  to  be  back  at  the  caserio 
before  sundown. 

Montesoro  smiled  to  himself  as  he  watched  the 
boy;  glad  to  see  his  attentions  to  Suzanna  at  an 
end.  In  fact,  Suzanna  and  Pancho  laughed  to 
gether  over  Miguel.  Montesoro  was  playing  his 
cards  with  all  the  skill  he  possessed.  Day  by  day 
he  saw  that  Suzanna  leaned  upon  him  more  and 
more. 

Ramon  had  made  no  attempt  to  see  her  since 
the  fiesta.  The  boy  was  in  the  depths.  A  hurried 
cup  of  coffee  in  the  early  morning,  and  he  was  off 
for  the  day,  treading  lonely  canons  and  mountain 
plateaus;  his  thoughts  as  grim  as  the  country 
through  which  he  rode. 

Montesoro  suspected  as  much;  but  with  extreme 
satisfaction  he  saw  the  effect  of  Ramon's  absence 
on  Suzanna.  The  boy's  failure  to  see  the  girl  but 
proved  what  he  had  told  her, — that  Ramon  would 
do  as  his  father  ordered.  Pancho's  confidence 
grew.  Let  the  boy  stay  away  until  the  wedding 
and  nothing  could  stop  him  from  winning  Suzanna. 


242  SUZANNA 


Suzanna  was  forced  to  aid  in  the  preparations 
for  the  forthcoming  marriage;  and  each  hour 
seemed  to  bring  a  fresh  heartache,  for  in  every  con 
ceivable  way  Chiquita  wounded  her  pride.  Ruiz 
kept  away  from  her,  and  so  she  turned  to  Monte- 
soro  as  her  only  friend. 

Six  days  had  passed  without  a  word  from  Ra 
mon.  This  alone  told  her,  better  than  words,  how 
foolish  she  had  been  to  hope  that  in  spite  of  every 
thing  he  would  claim  her. 

Every  one  had  so  much  to  do  in  the  day  that 
remained  that  Suzanna  failed  of  even  a  kind  word 
from  Don  Diego.  This  day,  too,  Chiquita  went  to 
the  altar  room  and  rehearsed  the  wedding  cere 
mony.  It  meant  agony  for  Suzanna.  In  spite  of 
herself  tears  filled  her  eyes,  and  Chiquita  repri 
manded  her.  She  knew  what  Suzanna  was  going 
through.  The  pity,  that  she  was  mean  and  small 
enough  to  take  pleasure  from  humbling  one  who 
was  impotent  to  turn  her  scorn! 

Montesoro  had  worried  through  the  day.  He 
had  promised  himself  that  if  Ramon  did  not  seek 
Suzanna  by  evening  that  he  would  risk  his  own 
chance  of  success  in  an  attempt  to  stampede  the 
girl  into  marrying  him  at  once. 


"IT  WILL  LEAD  TO  YOUR  DEATH!"  243 

Ramon  did  not  come,  so  Pancho  made  his  toss 
with  fate.  And  again  luck  favored  him,  for 
Suzanna's  pride  still  smarted  from  the  hurt 
Chiquita  hao!  given  it. 

Montesoro  showed  a  distinct  aversion  to  words 
as  he  sat  beside  her  in  the  garden.  It  was  a  peace 
ful  night.  He  had  brought  his  guitar  and  he 
strummed  it  softly  without  conscious  effort.  Lights 
glowed  in  the  kitchen  where  work  went  on  unabated 
this  night  of  nights.  From  above  came  the  mellow 
laughter  of  men  who  had  dined  well, — Don  Diego, 
the  Bishop  of  Monterey,  and  his  three  assistants. 

Suzanna  was  glad  of  the  man's  silence;  so  they 
sat,  each  busy  with  his  or  her  own  thoughts;  but 
ever  and  anon  Pancho's  guitar  whispered  its  rich, 
sonorous  music.  And  as  it  kept  on  without  ever  a 
lost  beat,  it  caught  up  the  thoughts  of  both  of  them. 
Its  insistence  seemed  to  hypnotize  the  girl.  As 
she  listened  she  fancied  it  saying,  "Why  be  un 
happy? —  Why  be  unhappy?  Life  is  all  about 
you;  life  is  good;  but  youth  is  soon  lost.  Come, — 
come  before  it  is  too  late." 

And  as  Pancho's  fingers  continued  to  dance  over 
the  strings  the  voice  of  the  guitar  argued  its  plea 
so  persistently  that  Suzanna  nodded  her  head  un- 


244  SUZANNA 


consciously.    As  from  a  distance  she  heard  Pancho 
say: 

"It  is  as  I  have  said,  precious  one;  he  does  not 


come." 


Without  glancing  at  her,  he  set  his  fingers  to 
moving  over  the  strings  of  the  guitar  again.  Three 
or  four  minutes  passed  before  he  next  addressed 
her. 

"I  have  had  good  news  this  day.  My  patrons 
in  Monterey  have  advanced  me  a  hundred  English 
pounds." 

He  spoke  disinterestedly  in  a  monotone  that 
placed  no  inflection  on  his  words.  As  he  finished, 
he  turned  to  his  guitar  again.  And  thus,  a  sen 
tence  or  two  at  a  time,  did  he  make  known  his 
mind.  He  expected  no  answer,  nor  did  he  wait  to 
receive  one,  and  never  did  eagerness  creep  into  his 
voice. 

The  hypnosis  of  the  thing  not  only  caught  Suz- 
anna,  but  the  man  as  well.  When  he  laid  down 
his  guitar  and  turned  to  her  impulsively,  he  be 
lieved  he  spoke  the  truth,  so  thoroughly  had  he 
steeped  himself  in  his  own  magic. 

"To-morrow  at  this  time  they  will  be  gone."  he 


"IT  WILL  LEAD  TO  YOUR  DEATH!"  245 

began.  "Have  you  given  any  thought  to  what 
your  life  is  going  to  be  when  they  return?" 

Suzanna  answered  honestly.  She  had  seen  to 
morrow  as  the  end  of  all  things. 

"They  will  come  back,  you  know,"  Pancho  went 
on.  "Honeymoons  do  not  last  forever.  That  devil 
will  take  delight  in  keeping  you  as  her  maid. 
What  better  chance  does  she  want  to  humble  you 
continuously? — to  let  you  see  the  happiness  which 
you  fancied  might  have  been  yours?  She  is  as 
cruel  as  the  Inquisition.  And  if  you  dare  to  resent 
her,  what  happens  to  you?  No!  No!"  he  ex 
claimed  angrily.  "You  are  not  going  to  submit  to 
that.  You  have  pride;  so  have  I.  Do  you  think 
that  I  am  going  to  allow  you  to  be  shamed  by  her? 
Never!  I  have  more  than  enough  to  support  us  in 
far  better  style  than  you  live  in  here.  Say  that 
you  will  be  mine,  Suzanna.  Let  me  take  you  to 
Monterey.  There  are  no  blooded  bulls  in  Califor 
nia.  What  have  I  to  fear  in  the  ring?  I  shall 
earn  much  money.  Every  tiniest  wish  of  yours  will 
be  fulfilled.  Look  at  me,  my  treasure,  my  heart, 
my  life!  I  think  only  of  you.  Tell  me  that  you 
love  me.  Let  me  kiss  you;  hold  you  close  to  my 
heart,  for  I  am  dying  of  love  for  you." 


246  SUZANNA 


His  appeal  was  more  than  Suzanna's  love-hungry 
heart  could  withstand,  and  in  a  daze  she  felt  her 
self  drawn  into  his  arms,  and  his  lips  pressed  to 
her  own. 

And  now  the  fervor  of  the  man  near  ruined  his 
chances,  for  his  base  nature  flamed  at  Suzanna's 
surrender.  He  felt  her  draw  away,  and  some  warn 
ing  sense  of  his  danger  coming  to  him,  he  released 
her  reluctantly. 

"Never  fear,  precious  one,  we  shall  humble  her 
who  has  thought  to  humble  you.  Have  you  wed 
ding  garments?" 

"Sufficient,"  Suzanna  answered.  "Don  Fernando 
presented  me  with  a  chest  on  my  last  birthday." 

"Then  we  shall  wed  to-morrow!"  Pancho  ex 
claimed  determinedly.  "On  the  very  day  the  other 
wedding  is  to  occur!  There  are  priests  aplenty 
to  hand.  Gold  can  arrange  it.  Tell  me,  my  heart's 
blood,  that  you  are  willing." 

Here  was  revenge!  Poor  Suzanna  was  only 
human.  And  what  difference  did  it  make  whether 
she  wed  this  man  to-morrow  or  a  month  from  to 
morrow?  No  matter  what  Ramon's  duty  was,  he 
could  have  found  time  for  a  word, — a  last  fare 
well  with  her.  And  then  too,  girls  had  to  marry. 


"IT  WILL  LEAD  TO  YOUR  DEATH!"  247 

Many  wed  without  hope  of  love;  and  to  less  per 
sonable  men  than  this  handsome  torero.  Anything 
was  hetter  than  to  stay  here  serving  the  woman 
who  had  taken  Ramon  from  her. 

Montesoro  did  not  hurry  her  for  an  answer.  He 
watched  her  face,  though,  and  saw  the  emotions 
which  crossed  it,  and  knew  that  he  was  winning. 
So  when  Suzanna  nodded  her  head,  he  was  ready 
with  suggestion. 

"Speak  to  Don  Diego  at  once,"  he  begged.  "I 
hear  him  in  his  study  now.  I  will  arrange  with  the 
priest  when  you  return.  Until  you  are  back  I  will 
wait  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder  beneath  your  window. 
Art  bashful  at  speaking  to  your  master,  Suzanna?" 

Suzanna  smiled  bravely,  and  moved  slowly  away 
toward  the  house,  little  aware  that  as  she  did  so 
Ramon  scaled  the  patio  wall. 

The  boy  had  ridden  untold  miles  that  day,  torn 
between  his  duty  to  his  father  and  his  love  for 
Suzanna.  The  forfeiting  of  his  estate  he  held 
lightly  enough.  Even  the  difference  of  castes  did 
not  hold  him  back.  The  love  he  bore  his  father 
and  mother,  his  duty  to  them,  the  breaking  of  their 
hearts, — these  were  the  real  barriers. 

Dinner  time  had  found  him  miles  from  home. 


248  SUZANNA 


In  the  last  three  days  he  had  tasted  but  sparingly 
of  food.  His  horse  begged  for  his  head  that  he 
might  race  over  the  long  miles  to  the  caserio.  Home 
was  the  last  place  Ramon  wanted  to  see.  This 
lonely  spot  fitted  his  mood.  The  whippoorwills 
were  winging  over  the  sage  already,  their  plaintive 
call  no  more  sad  than  his  heart. 

For  a  full  hour  the  boy  held  his  position  upon 
the  rim  of  the  mesa.  Night  was  at  hand  when  still 
decisionless,  he  began  the  long  journey  homeward. 
He  held  himself  a  coward,  a  weakling,  for  he  knew 
that  he  waited  now  for  something  outside  of  him 
self  to  force  a  decision  for  him. 

In  this  bitter  mood  he  had  arrived  home  only  to 
find  a  priest  waiting  to  confess  him.  The  sight 
of  the  good  man  wrenched  a  groan  from  the  boy's 
lips.  The  padre's  mission  here  brought  home  what 
the  morrow  held  more  poignantly  than  aught  else 
could. 

In  a  blind  rage,  Ramon  had  hurled  himself  from 
the  room,  and  rushed  off  to  find  Suzanna.  He 
dared  not  ask  for  admission  at  the  patio  gate,  so 
moving  stealthily,  he  had  climbed  the  wall  and 
dropped  safely  to  the  ground. 

Without  hesitation  he  moved  toward  the  ladder 


"IT  WILL  LEAD  TO  YOUR  DEATH!"  249 

which  lead  to  Suzanna's  quarters.  Even  now,  he 
did  not  know  what  he  would  say  to  her;  but  the 
desire  to  be  with  her,  to  hear  her  voice  and  look 
into  her  eyes  had  swept  away  all  other  considera 
tions.  Deftly,  he  ascended  to  her  room  and  looked 
for  her.  A  glance  told  him  she  was  not  there. 

"In  the  kitchen,  no  doubt,"  he  muttered  to  him 
self,  "wearing  her  fingers  off  for  my  future  wife, 
— ha!"  With  an  exclamation  of  disgust  he  went 
back  to  the  ladder. 

Montesoro  confronted  him  as  he  stepped  to  the 
ground. 

"Yours  is  rather  strange  conduct,  sefior," 
Pancho  ground  out  sullenly.  "I  had  hardly  ex 
pected  to  see  a  man  who  is  to  be  married  in  the 
morning,  leaving  the  room  of  another  woman  the 
night  before;  and  as  the  other  woman  happens  to 
be  my  promised  wife,  I  resent  it." 

Even  though  he  was  in  a  beastly  temper,  Ramon 
could  not  repress  a  start  at  the  boldness  with  which 
Montesoro  coupled  his  own  name  with  Suzanna's. 

"You  are  still  my  father's  guest,"  the  boy 
whipped  out  savagely,  "albeit  you  are  heartily  un 
welcome.  Even  so,  I  am  hard  pressed  to  be  civil 


250  SUZANNA 


to  you.  But  man  to  man,  you  know  that  you  are 
nought  to  her  whose  name  you  mention." 

"You  are  certain,  eh, — sefior?"  Montesoro 
drawled  sarcastically.  "Permit  me  to  suggest  that 
you  may  change  your  mind  on  the  morrow." 

The  note  of  confidence  in  his  voice  was  too 
genuine  to  be  ignored. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  have  tricked  her  into 
marrying  you?"  Ramon  exclaimed. 

"I  mean  that  we  will  be  married  in  the  morn 
ing,"  Pancho  shot  back.  "Don  Diego  has  just 
given  his  consent." 

The  boy  went  weak  all  of  a  sudden.  The  desire 
to  kill  this  man  swept  over  him  as  a  fire  sweeps  a 
forest.  And  Suzanna, — had  she  loved  him  so 
little?  Ramon  asked.  And  then  his  conduct  this 
past  week  came  back  to  smite  him.  He  saw  now 
how  he  had  seemed  to  spurn  her.  He  had  brought 
this  calamity  upon  himself.  He  was  the  great 
fool! 

Could  this  be  the  end  of  his  dreaming,  Ramon 
asked  himself.  Was  it  possible  that  Suzanna  had 
accepted  this  man?  But  why  not?  Montesoro  was 
the  type  of  man  to  stampede  a  girl.  And  himself, 
what  had  he  done  that  he  could  expect  Suzanna  to 


"IT  WILL  LEAD  TO  YOUR  DEATH!"  251 

wait  for  him?  Nothing!  And  what  could  he  do, 
even  now,  in  the  short  space  of  time  before  he  led 
Chiquita  to  the  altar? 

In  a  voice  that  he  failed  to  recognize  for  his  own 
he  addressed  himself  to  Montesoro. 

"If  we  were  two  strange  men,  one  of  us  would 
die  here.  To  my  great  regret  we  are  not.  But 
mark  this  well, — if  you  persist  in  wrhat  you  have 
told  me  to-night, — it  will  lead  to  your  death!" 


CHAPTER  XXI 
"PEREZ,  i  NEED  YOU!" 

DON  DIEGO  unlocked  the  door  of  his  study  to 
admit  Suzanna.  He  showed  his  surprise  at  seeing 
her. 

"What  is  it,  child?"  he  questioned  kindly. 

"I  have  come  to  ask  the  greatest  favor  a  peon 
girl  can  ask  of  her  master,"  Suzanna  replied 
steadily. 

"So?"  Don  Diego  exclaimed.  "You  know  full 
well  that  I  am  not  one  to  deny  you,  Suzanna. 
Come,  sit  down,"  and  Don  Diego  led  her  into  his 
apartment. 

The  girl  felt  a  great  longing  to  fly  into  the  arms 
of  this  kindly  gentleman.  Although  he  was  only 
her  god-father,  Don  Diego  had  ever  shown  her  more 
consideration  than  the  man  whom  she  called  father. 
In  the  days  of  her  childhood  she  had  turned  to  him 
instinctively,  and  her  faith  in  his  generosity  and 
justness  had  not  abated  since  she  had  grown  to 

252 


"PEREZ,  I  NEED  YOU!"  253 

womanhood.  So,  with  less  trepidation  than  might 
be  supposed  she  spoke  to  him  now. 

"Don  Diego,"  she  murmured  softly,  her  eyes 
unafraid,  "I  want  your  permission  to  marry." 

"To  do  what?"  Senor  de  Sola  demanded. 

"To  marry,"  Suzanna  repeated. 

"Well!  Well!— Well!"  he  exclaimed,  shaking 
his  head  in  wonderment.  "So  my  little  Suzanna 
is  to  be  married.  But  who  is  the  fortunate  man? 
Is  he  one  of  Don  Fernando's  vaqueros  or  mine?" 

"He  is  not  a  vaquero,  Don  Diego.  It  is  Senor 
Montesoro." 

"Humph!"  Don  Diego  cleared  his  throat,  not  as 
well  pleased  as  he  might  have  been.  Suzanna  had 
held  a  peculiar  attraction  for  him,  and  he  was 
loath  to  see  her  wed  a  man,  who  although  of  better 
social  position,  was  one  about  whom  he  knew  but 
little. 

"You  love  the  man?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"He  has  been  very  kind  to  me,  Don  Diego." 

"Well,  Suzanna,  it  is  not  in  my  heart  on  this 
night  to  deny  any  one  of  my  people,  you  least  of 
all.  I  have  heard  no  bad  word  of  Montesoro.  He 
seems  to  be  a  gentleman,  as  some  members  of  his 
calling  have  proven  themselves;  for  all  that  it  is 


254  SUZANNA 


a  profession  given  to  licentiousness.  I  hear  that 
he  has  secured  the  patronage  of  some  wealthy 
gentlemen  in  Monterey.  For  your  sake,  I  hope  he 
does  well.  I  had  rather  expected  the  man  to  con 
tract  a  more  propitious  marriage.  This  news  will 
come  as  a  great  surprise  to  all  of  us." 

"Do  I  understand  that  you  give  me  permission 
to  marry  him,  Don  Diego?"  Suzanna  inquired  ner 
vously. 

"If  it  pleases  you,  yes.  Have  you  thought  of  a 
day?" 

"To-morrow, — if  it  could  be  arranged, — before 
the  padres  leave?" 

"Send  Seiior  Montesoro  to  me  this  evening," 
Don  Diego  answered.  "I  will  ask  the  Bishop  to 
acquiesce  in  the  matter  of  the  bans.  And  now, 
child,  come  to  my  arms  for  my  own  blessing." 

Tears  filled  the  girl's  eyes  as  Don  Diego  re 
leased  her. 

"Tears  of  happiness,"  he  murmured,  " — they 
are  the  only  tears  worth  while." 

With  a  protecting  arm  about  her,  he  led  her  to 
the  door. 

"Do  not  fear  that  you  will  go  to  your  husband 
a  penniless  bride,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear  as  she 


"PEREZ,  I  NEED  YOU!"  255 

bade  him  good-night.  "Your  padrino  will  see  to 
that" 

Don  Diego  had  sent  for  Chiquita  upon  entering 
his  study,  earlier,  and  the  girl  appeared  as  Suzanna 
was  leaving.  Don  Diego  called  her  back. 

"Here  is  a  surprise,  my  daughter,"  he  said  to 
Chiquita.  "Little  Suzanna  is  going  to  be  married 


to-morrow." 


"Wha-t-t!"  Chiquita  gasped. 

"I  knew  you  would  be  surprised,"  Senor  de  Sola 
reiterated.  "She  is  to  become  the  wife  of  Senor 
Montesoro." 

"Why — why — it  is  impossible!"  Chiquita  cried. 
She  could  not  believe  her  ears.  What  devil's  re 
venge  was  this  that  Pancho  had  contrived?  She 
seemed  about  to  faint.  Don  Diego  put  his  arms 
about  her,  his  eyes  wide  with  surprise. 

"What  is  it,  Chiquita?"  he  asked.  "Does  this 
news  effect  you  so?" 

"No — no,"  the  girl  answered.  "I'm  overly 
tired.  But  it  is  a  surprise,  father."  She  spoke  to 
Suzanna  then.  "Do  you  love  the  man?"  she  de 
manded. 

Suzanna  but  looked  at  her  and  smiled.  It  was 
her  moment 


256  SUZANNA 


"He  swears  that  he  loves  me,"  she  murmured. 
"That  is  enough.  Seldom  does  a  girl  marry  the 
man  she  loves." 

Chiquita  winced.  She  understood  the  other's 
meaning.  A  fitting  retort  trembled  upon  her 
tongue,  but  Don  Diego's  questioning  eyes  stilled  it. 
Leaning  heavily  upon  his  arm,  Chiquita  implored 
him  to  lead  her  into  his  study.  Suzanna  knew  that 
she  was  dismissed,  and  she  bowed  respectfully. 

Chiquita  was  at  some  pains  to  turn  the  query  in 
Don  Diego's  eyes  at  her  conduct.  This  she  did  at 
last,  and  the  good  man  chided  her  kindly  for  not 
having  warned  him  that  she  had  undertaken  too 
much  in  arranging  for  her  wedding  in  such  a  brief 
time. 

"I  sent  for  you,  Chiquita,"  he  said  finally,  "to 
have  a  last  minute  or  two  alone  with  you  before 
you  pass  from  my  care  to  your  husband's.  You 
know  full  well  how  happy  you  have  made  me  by 
accepting  Ramon.  Already  you  have  had  substan 
tial  proof  of  my  gratitude;  but  I  hold  that  what  I 
have  done  is  no  proper  gift.  I  have  here,  however, 
that  which  I  hold  dearest  of  all  my  possessions.  It 
is  my  wish,  my  daughter,  to  present  it  to  you  now." 

Don  Diego  unlocked  his  desk  and  withdrew  a 


"PEREZ,  I  NEED  YOU!"  257 

small,  iron-bound  casket.  Chiquita's  breath  came 
unevenly  as  she  watched  him.  She  divined  the 
contents  of  this  chest. 

Senor  de  Sola  opened  it  and  bid  her  look.  An 
array  of  sparkling  jewels  greeted  her  eyes.  The 
girl  had  often  heard  of  the  de  Sola  heirlooms,  but 
she  iiad  never  put  eyes  to  them  until  now. 

Don  Diego  thrilled  at  the  sound  of  the  glad  cry 
which  escaped  Chiquita.  Impulsively  he  put  his 
hand  into  the  casket  and  brought  forth  a  magnifi 
cent  string  of  lustrous  pearls.  With  the  grace  of  a 
courtier,  he  dropped  them  about  her  shoulders. 

"My  daughter,"  murmured  huskily,  his  voice 
heavy  with  emotion,  "these  are  the  most  prized  pos 
sessions  of  our  family.  Kings  and  queens  have 
worn  these  jewels;  they  are  fit  only  for  kings  and 
queens.  And  because  you  are  a  queen, — the  queen 
of  my  heart,  I  bestow  them  on  you,  with  no  other 
wish  than  that  you  may  be  as  happy  as  those  others 
who  have  worn  them  with  such  pride  and  honor. 
They  are  yours,  my  daughter, — my  wedding  gift 
to  you  and  Ramon." 

Not  until  she  had  fondled  each  separate  jewel 
would  Chiquita  consent  to  their  being  placed  into 
the  vault  for  the  night.  So  great  was  her  joy  in 


258  SUZANNA 


this  wonderful  gift  that  she  quite  forgot  Montesoro 
for  the  minute.  Had  she  been  so  minded,  Chiquita 
could  have  read  her  own  character  from  this  fact. 
She  was  an  individualist.  She  toot;  but  she  never 
gave. 

An  hour  later,  however,  thought  of  the  man  did 
come  to  her,  and  she  cursed  him  for  shaming  her 
by  marrying  a  peon  beneath  her  very  nose.  And 
yet  so  perverse  was  her  nature  that  her  infatuation 
for  the  man  but  grew,  in  that  he  could  be  so  su 
perbly  cruel  to  her. 

She  gave  no  thought  to  the  man  she  was  to  wed 
within  a  few  hours.  In  fairness,  let  it  be  said, 
Ramon  gave  no  thought  to  her.  He  had  returned 
to  the  waiting  padre,  and  made  his  pre-nuptial 
confession.  But  it  was  significant  of  how  little 
weight  the  customs  of  the  Church  had  with  him, 
that  once  finished  with  the  priest,  he  went  in  search 
of  Guara,  the  Indian,  and  sent  him  off  with  a  note 
post-haste  to  no  other  than  the  outlaw,  Perez. 

The  fact  that  in  his  need  of  an  ally  he  should  be 
forced  to  turn  to  one  who  roamed  the  country  with 
a  price  on  his  head  made  him  smile  mirthlessly. 
It  was  a  grim  indictment  of  his  fellow  men;  but 
who  else  would  dare  what  he  asked  of  Perez? 


"PEREZ,  I  NEED  YOU!"  259 

The  letter  which  Ramon  handed  to  Guara,  read: 

"Perez,  I  need  you.  Unless  you  can  contrive  to  pre 
vent  it,  Suzanna  will  be  married  to-morrow  morning  to 
Montesoro.  It  is  too  late  for  argument.  No  matter  what 
the  danger,  I  beg  you  to  carry  her  off.  I  guarantee  you 
with  my  life  that  you  shall  not  come  to  harm. 
My  hand  on  it, 

RAMON  GUTIERREZ." 

"I  do  not  know  where  you  will  find  the  man, 
Guara,"  the  boy  said  to  the  Indian.  "He  is  some 
where  in  the  Santa  Cruz  hills.  Take  a  lead  horse 
with  you;  drive  them  to  the  limit.  There  is  no 
danger  for  you  in  this,  except  you  fail  me.  The 
night  is  clear:  you  know  the  trails  well.  Go! — And 
by  the  blood  of  your  fathers,  Guara,  swear  to  me 
that  you  will  find  him." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  GROOM  TAKES  HIS  PLACE 

MORNING  dawned  without  the  Indian  having  re 
turned.  Ramon  tramped  his  room  impatiently.  In 
two  hours  his  father  would  be  coming  for  him. 
What  had  happened  to  Guara?  Had  his  fear  of 
Perez  proven  greater  than  his  devotion  to  his  mas 
ter's  son?  Glancing  from  his  window,  Ramon  saw 
that  already  the  carriage  in  which  he  and  Chiquita 
were  to  ride  aWay  had  drawn  up  before  Don 
Diego's  house,  its  wheels  and  body  covered  with 
flowers.  The  patios  of  his  own  home  were  a  riot 
of  color  as  servants  and  guests  moved  about  in 
holiday  splendor. 

The  boy  had  his  coffee  served  to  him  in  his 
room.  Fifteen  minutes  later  his  father  sent  word 
that  it  was  time  to  dress.  Ramon  stole  to  the  roof 
of  the  house  and  swept  the  horizon  for  sight  of 
Guara  as  soon  as  the  servant  had  left.  The  road 
was  dotted  with  many  traveling  hitherward;  but 

260 


THE  GROOM  TAKES  HIS  PLACE   261 

the  pace  at  which  they  moved  was  proof  enough 
that  the  Indian  was  not  among  them. 

Despairing,  his  brain  dulled  to  what  went  on 
about  him,  he  stumbled  downstairs  to  his  room. 
His  father's  barber  awaited  him.  Mechanically, 
Ramon  permitted  the  man  to  shave  him.  The  bar 
ber  had  not  left  before  another  servant  arrived  to 
lay  out  his  wedding  garments,  and  to  help  his  young 
master  don  them. 

The  boy's  indifference  hindered  the  man,  and 
before  the  dressing  was  accomplished  Ramon's 
father  came  in.  Don  Fernando  was  fully  attired 
for  the  wedding,  and  he  raised  his  eyebrows  at  his 
son's  apparent  tardiness. 

"We  have  but  a  quarter  of  an  hour,"  he  warned. 
"Your  mother  is  waiting  already." 

Ramon  nodded  his  head  silently. 

"Join  us  as  soon  as  you  can,  then,"  his  father 
ordered.  "Everything  has  been  attended  to." 

Ramon's  thoughts  as  he  surveyed  himself  in  his 
mirror  were  the  bitterest  of  his  life.  In  his  re 
splendent  clothes  of  velvet  and  doeskin,  he  was  a 
handsome  figure.  Somehow  the  scowl  on  his  face 
but  enhanced  the  quality  of  his  strong  features. 

The  servant  begged  him  to  come  to  the  window 


262  SUZANNA 


for  a  glimpse  of  the  bridal  procession  which  was 
forming  in  Don  Diego's  patio.  Ramon  glared  at 
the  man  for  his  trouble.  Now,  that  it  was  too  late, 
the  boy  could  have  leaped  from  that  window  and 
dashed  for  the  distant  hills. 

Trapped,  his  heart  dead  within  him,  he  joined 
his  parents.  A  cry  broke  from  the  crowd  as  they 
stepped  from  the  house.  It  was  for  Ramon,  and 
the  boy  bowed  in  recognition.  Then  with  full  re 
gard  for  the  dignity  of  the  occasion,  Don  Fernando 
led  the  way  to  Don  Diego's  mansion. 

Senor  de  Sola  met  them  and  escorted  them  into 
his  study.  He  noted  the  paleness  of  Ramon's  face. 

"My  son,"  he  whispered  to  him.  "Let  me  get 
you  a  nip  of  the  best  brandy  in  California.  This 
day  is  ever  one  of  terror  for  a  man.  Come."  And 
placing  his  arm  through  the  boy's,  he  led  him  away, 
vouchsafing  a  smile  to  Don  Fernando  and  Dona 
Luz. 

Every  step  that  Ramon  took  was  one  of  fear. 
He  refused  to  think  what  he  would  do  if  he  should 
encounter  Suzanna.  The  corridors  were  filled  with 
hurrying  servants.  Only  a  miracle  could  prevent 
their  meeting.  And  yet,  they  did  not,  for  at  that 


THE  GROOM  TAKES  HIS  PLACE     263 

very  moment  Suzanna  was  donning  her  own  wed 
ding  dress. 

By  the  time  that  Don  Diego  and  Ramon  returned 
to  the  study  it  was  time  for  the  marriage  to  occur. 
Kissing  his  mother,  the  boy  permitted  himself  to  be 
led  to  his  position  before  the  chancel  in  the  chapel. 

Barely  had  he  taken  his  place  when  the  Bishop 
and  his  assistants  appeared.  Ramon  eyed  them 
stonily  as  they  mounted  the  altar  steps.  The 
Bishop  began  the  mass,  the  audience  singing  the 
responses;  but  Ramon  gave  no  heed  to  the  multi 
tude  or  its  whispered  comments.  Solemn,  erect, 
he  stood  as  a  man  stands  before  a  firing  squad. 
But  once  did  he  smile,  and  it  was  his  mother  who 
won  it  from  him  as  she  took  her  position  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  chancel.  There  was  such  sad 
ness  in  his  eyes  that  Dona  Luz'  Heart  bled  for  him. 
She  fancied  she  knew  the  sacrifice  this  son  of  hers 
made. 

"Dominus  vobiscum"  the  Bishop  droned.  And 
then  through  the  door  at  Ramon's  side  came  his 
father.  Behind  him  the  boy  caught  a  glimpse  of 
the  wedding  procession.  Leading  it  came  Chiquita 
on  the  arm  of  Don  Diego;  the  man  proud,  stately. 

Chiquita,  her  head  slightly  bowed,  a  suspicious 


264  SUZANNA 


pinkness  in  her  olive  tinted  cheeks,  was  almost 
incomparably  beautiful.  Her  wedding  gown,  a 
wondrous  garment  of  satin  and  rare  lace,  flared 
widely  at  the  bottom,  and  as  she  walked  her  red 
slippers  peeped  out  cautiously.  Draped  about  her 
shoulders  clung  a  mantilla  of  purest  silver  thread. 
A  jeweled  comb  sparkled  in  her  midnight  hair. 
The  mantilla  hung  from  this  ornament  in  her  hair, 
and  as  she  turned  her  head  both  comb  and  mantilla 
glistened  in  the  sunlight. 

Ramon  had  to  admit  that  she  was  beautiful, — 
but  her^s  was  the  beauty  that  kills. 

A  procession  of  children  followed  in  the  bridal 
train,  casting  flowers  at  the  bride  and  her  attend 
ants,  and  making  a  veritable  pathway  of  blossoms 
upon  which  the  bride  and  groom  were  to  tread  as 
they  left  the  chapel. 

The  last  of  the  children  entered,  and  Ramon 
saw  his  bride  take  her  place  opposite  him.  Turn 
ing  his  eyes  away,  that  she  might  not  read  his 
thoughts,  he  stared  through  the  open  door  at  the 
flower  strewn  path.  And  as  he  continued  to  gaze 
into  the  empty  patio,  he  saw  Montesoro  and  Suz- 
anna  move  across  the  garden  toward  a  temporary 


THE  GROOM  TAKES  HIS  PLACE    265 

altar  which  had  been  hurriedly  arranged  for  their 
marriage. 

Suzanna's  olive  tinted  cheeks  were  pale;  but  she 
was  magnificent  in  her  wedding  garments  as  head 
erect  she  walked  beside  the  man  whom  she  was 
about  to  wed.  Never  once  did  she  look  to  the  right 
or  left,  but  continued  with  steady  step  toward  the 
altar. 

Montesoro  was  clad  in  fitting  raiment,  and  al 
though  he  hovered  near  Suzanna  protectingly,  he 
shot  a  hurried  glance  toward  the  chapel,  dreading 
some  last  minute  interference  with  his  plans. 

Ramon's  blood  froze  in  his  veins  as  he  beheld  the 
two  of  them.  What  had  happened  to  Guara?  Had 
the  Indian's  courage  failed  him?  Surely  he  had 
not  found  Perez,  or  else  the  man  would  have  come. 
Another  ten  minutes  and  no  power  on  earth 
could  stop  Suzanna  from  marrying  the  man  beside 
her. 

A  look  of  horror  crossed  the  boy's  face.  Terror 
came  into  his  eyes.  And  then  as  he  watched,  he 
saw  another  figure  follow  them,  a  man  hi  dashing 
raiment.  Something  familiar  about  the  swagger 
of  him  struck  Ramon.  His  lips  moved  inarticu 
lately  as  he  strained  his  eyes  for  a  better  look  at 


266  SUZANNA 


the  man's  face.  And  then,  like  a  flash,  the  boy's 
eyes  snapped. 

His  blood  warmed  again.  He  wanted  to  cry  out, 
to  shout  with  ecstacy,  for  here  was  help.  Let  Mon- 
tesoro  and  the  others  do  their  worst,  they  dealt  with 
a  man  now. 

"For  Dios!"  he  mumbled.  "I  knew  he  would  not 
fail  me.  It's  Perez,  himself!" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
"THE  WAY  is  OPEN!" 

GUARA  had  not  found  Perez.  The  man  had 
come  unsummoned  to  the  caserio.  He  had  timed 
his  arrival  well,  and  for  once  he  entered  by  the 
gate.  Neither  Pancho  or  Suzanna  had  seen  him 
waiting  for  them  to  cross  to  the  altar.  In  fact,  they 
did  not  become  aware  of  his  presence  until  he  ad 
dressed  them. 

Montesoro's  hand  went  to  his  sword  as  he  rec 
ognized  the  bandit.  Perez  ignored  him,  and  turn 
ing  to  Suzanna  he  said: 

"I  am  late, — as  usual;  but  not  too  late — and  as 
I  have  come  all  the  way  from  Monterey  since  sun 
rise,  perhaps  you  will  forgive  my  tardiness." 

Suzanna  had  no  ready  answer,  so  great  a  shock 
had  his  appearance  given  her.  Perez  saw  her  con 
fusion. 

"You  did  not  send  for  me,  as  I  suggested,"  he 
ran  on,  "but  that  prize  fool,  Miguel,  unwittingly 
served  as  your  messenger." 

267 


268  SUZANNA 


The  man  spoke  in  riddles.  But  he  was  not  one 
to  risk  his  neck  for  the  thrill  of  it. 

"Miguel?"  Suzanna  questioned,  hoping  to  dis 
cover  what  it  was  that  Perez  was  trying  to  say. 
"Have  you  taken  him  prisoner,  too." 

The  man  bowed  as  he  answered. 

"Miguel  is  also  a  guest  of  mine,"  he  replied 
ironically.  "Or  rather  I  might  say  that  I  have 
been  their  guest;  inasmuch  as  the  entertainment  has 
taken  place  within  the  walls  of  Senor  Alvarez's 
own  home.  But  no  matter, — as  a  companion,  the 
father  has  proven  a  distinct  disappointment;  his 
sense  of  humor  is  negligible.  But  allow  me  to  say, 
Sefiorita,  that  I  have  succeeded  in  finding  out  why 
friend  Alvarez  was  so  exceedingly  anxious  to  have 
his  son  wed  you." 

Pancho  had  stood  being  brushed  aside  as  long 
as  he  could  bear  it.  With  a  clicking  of  syllables 
he  said  to  Perez: 

"You  choose  an  ill  time  for  your  gossip.  You 
will  find  the  wedding  presents  arrayed  in  Don 
Diego's  study." 

"So-o-o?"  Perez  inquired  with  rising  inflec 
tion,  a  dreadful  whine  in  his  voice.  "Think  you 
that  I  am  always  bent  on  business?  I  have  my 


"THE  WAY  IS  OPEN!"  269 

moments,  man.  The  time  is  short;  allow  me  to 
finish." 

"Not  if  it  is  only  idle  gossip  which  you  have  to 
retail!" 

Perez  smiled  to  himself. 

"I  will  leave  that  to  your  judgment,  Senor,"  he 
replied.  "Suzanna,"  he  began  again,  "on  the 
word  of  a  lawyer,  I  can  assure  you  that  you  have 
been  most  grievously  sinned  against." 

Suzanna  smiled  enigmatically,  at  a  loss  to  un 
derstand  the  man. 

"On  unimpeachable  authority,  believe  me,  I  say 
to  you  that  you  are  the  real  Chiquita  de  Sola.  The 
girl,  who  stands  inside  that  chapel  door  about  to 
wed  young  Gutierrez,  is  a  peon, — the  daughter  of 
Ruiz,  the  peon!" 

Suzanna's  hand  leaped  to  her  mouth. 

"Wha-t-t-t!"  she  cried,  her  body  trembling. 
Surely  this  man  was  mad.  In  fear,  she  stepped 
nearer  to  Pancho,  and  sent  an  appealing  glance  at 
him.  But  Montesoro  was  speechless.  Was  this 
girl  to  be  snatched  away  from  him  at  the  very 
altar? 

"I  repeat  myself,"  Perez  went  on,  "you  are  Don 


270  SUZANNA 


Diego's  daughter!  I  suspect  that  this  man  has 
known  it  for  some  time." 

"Your  suspicions  are  in  keeping  with  the  rest  of 
your  weird  tale,"  Montesoro  cried  angrily. 
"Enough  of  your  witless  chatter!  Ramon  saved 
you  once;  I  doubt  if  he  could  accomplish  it  were 
I  to  raise  my  voice  now." 

Perez  made  no  reply  until  he  had  stared  the  man 
down. 

"There  is  truth  in  your  surmise,"  he  said  at  last. 
"But  you  will  not  cry  out  against  me,  sefior, — I  am 
quite  certain  of  that.  And  as  for  witless  chatter, — 
a  man  does  not  speak  witlessly  when  hot  irons  are 
caressing  the  soles  of  his  feet.  Believe  me,  Sefior 
Alvarez  never  spoke  more  to  the  point.  Ruiz  went 
to  him  with  his  secret.  Here  I  have  the  statement 
of  friend  Alvarez!" 

Tersely  then  did  Perez  acquaint  Suzanna  with  the 
truth.  No  wonder  there  had  always  been  a  warm 
affection  in  her  heart  for  Don  Diego;  it  was  the 
natural  affinity  of  a  daughter  for  her  father. 

Weak,  dazed,  Suzanna  leaned  against  the 
altar  for  support.  How  would  her  father  receive 
this  news  And  Don  Fernando, — and  Ramon? — 
would  he  scorn  her  now?  And  then  her  heart  al- 


"THE  WAY  IS  OPEN!"  271 

most  stopped  beating.  The  marriage!  No  doubt 
but  what  the  Bishop  was  pronouncing  Chiquita 
man  and  wife  this  very  instant.  Perez  had  said 
that  he  was  not  too  late;  but  he  was!  What  good 
could  come  of  his  news  now?  The  document  he 
had  given  her  burned  her  fingers. 

The  girl's  brain  reeled  and  her  power  to  think 
left  her.  She  heard  a  strange  voice,  which  she 
barely  recognized  for  Montesoro's,  saying: 

"It's  a  story-book  tale  that  you  tell.  You  will 
have  to  prove  it!  And  you  have  not  named  your 
price,  either." 

Perez  started  to  reply,  but  Suzanna  stopped  him. 
Turning  to  Pancho  she  asked: 

"Does  it  not  make  you  happy  to  know  the  truth?" 

"More  than  I  can  say, — if  it  is  the  truth,"  Mon- 
tesoro  muttered.  "But  the  thought  of  losing  you  is 
maddening." 

"I  have  not  said  that  I  would  not  marry  you," 
Suzanna  answered  slowly. 

"But  /  say  that  you  shall  not  marry  him!"  a 
voice  boomed  behind  her.  "You  are  mine,  and  no 
man  shall  take  you  from  me!" 

That  voice!  Suzanna  put  out  her  hand  un 
steadily. 


272  SUZANNA 


"Ramon!"  she  whispered.     "My  Ramon " 

"At  last,"  he  said  to  her.  "God  bless  you, 
Perez,"  he  exclaimed  as  he  turned  to  the  bandit. 
"Have  you  a  horse?" 

"Outside  the  gate, — a  white  stallion.  The  crowd 
is  coming!" 

Ramon  reached  for  Suzanna,  and  as  he  did  so, 
Pancho's  sword  flashed. 

"You'll  not  run  so  fast!"  he  cried  aloud. 

The  boy  was  caught  without  hope  of  defending 
himself.  Suzanna  screamed  as  she  saw  the  steel 
blade  reach  for  Ramon's  throat.  And  then  through 
the  air  another  blade  whistled ;  the  swish  of  it  end 
ing  in  a  groan  as  Montesoro  sank  to  the  ground, 
pierced  to  the  heart. 

"Go!"  Perez  commanded.     "The  way  is  open!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
"WHITHER  DO  WE  GO?" 

RAMON  had  stood  at  the  chancel,  waiting,  until 
his  hands  had  shaken,  for  some  sign  of  action  on  the 
part  of  Perez.  Helplessly  he  had  fought  the  excite 
ment  raging  within  him.  The  Bishop  had  read  the 
Pater  Noster;  another  minute  or  two  and  the  mass 
would  be  over;  the  wedding  would  be  consummated. 
Something  in  Ramon  had  snapped,  then.  Time 
and  place,  parents,  betrothed,  custom,  traditions, — 
everything  was  swept  away  in  the  flood  of  emotion 
which  had  engulfed  him.  The  decision  he  had  de 
spaired  of  ever  reaching,  had  given  him  strength. 
Let  the  cost  be  what  it  might,  Chiquita  de  Sola  could 
be  no  bride  of  his!  Without  pausing  to  calculate 
his  chances  of  success,  he  had  leaped  through  the 
door  and  rushed  to  Suzanna's  side. 

The  crowd  had  murmured  at  his  unceremonious 
exit.  Don  Fernando  and  Don  Diego  exchanged  a 
wondering  glance,  but  even  now  they  had  no  sus 
picion  of  what  went  forward  in  the  patio;  and  it 

273 


274  SUZANNA 


was  not  until  the  sound  of  angry  voices  arose  that 
Ramon's  father  stepped  to  the  door.  His  eye  took 
in  the  scene  at  a  glance, — Montesoro  lying  dead  at 
the  foot  of  the  altar;  Perez,  sword  in  hand  standing 
above  him;  Ramon  running  for  the  gate,  Suzanna 
in  his  arms. 

"Hold!  Hold!"  He  cried  aloud.  "Stop 
them!" 

The  crowd  in  the  chapel  was  thrown  into  a  panic. 
Men,  who  had  been  friends  but  a  moment  before, 
fought  each  other  to  gain  access  to  the  garden. 

Don  Fernando  had  drawn  his  sword  on  seeing 
no  one  arise  to  bar  the  way  to  Ramon's  escape. 
The  portly  man  called  again  as  he  ran  after  them; 
but  as  the  crowd  .poured  into  the  garden,  Ramon 
lifted  Suzanna  onto  the  horse's  back  and  swung 
into  the  saddle  in  front  of  her. 

"Stop!  Stop  him!"  Don  Fernando  shouted,  but 
the  cry  was  in  vain;  Ramon  and  Suzanna  dashed 
away. 

The  boy's  father  turned  to  his  men,  who  sur 
rounded  him.  "Pursue  them!"  he  ordered. 

Horses  were  needed  first,  before  this  could  be 
done,  and  minutes  must  elapse  before  they  could 
be  saddled.  Ramon  was  heading  for  the  hills  to 


"WHITHER  DO  WE  GO?"  275 

the  west.  In  a  few  minutes,  he  was  far  enough 
away  from  the  caserio  to  permit  those  who  watched 
to  follow  him  with  their  eyes. 

"He  is  pursued!"  some  one  cried. 

And  true  enough,  a  long-striding  black  horse  had 
turned  from  the  road  and  was  leaping  after  the 
fugitives. 

"That  horse,"  Don  Fernando  exclaimed, — "his 
gait  is  familiar!" 

"  Tis  Guara,"  Ruiz  answered.  "I  recognize  the 
horse  he  rides." 

"He  bids  fair  to  overtake  them.  But  to  your 
horses,  men.  And  look  to  it  you  are  quick  about 
it!" 

Ramon  and  Suzanna  had  passed  from  sight  by 
now,  Guara  riding  close. 

Another  mile  and  the  Indian  caught  up  with 
them.  The  boy  had  seen  that  they  were  followed, 
and  that  their  pursuer  must  overtake  them. 

Suzanna  pointed  to  him  in  alarm. 

"Never  fear!"  Ramon  cried.  "By  my  life  I 
swear  they  shall  not  take  you  from  me." 

That  it  was  Guara  who  followed  them,  caused  the 
boy  to  wonder;  but  be  he  friend  or  foe,  Ramon 
vowed  that  the  Indian  should  not  turn  him  back. 


276  SUZANNA 


Sword  in 'hand,  he  swung  to  the  ground  and  faced 
the  man. 

The  Indian  shook  his  head  at  sight  of  the  boy's 
drawn  sword. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  come  as  a  friend?"  Ra 
mon  questioned.  "Didn't  my  father  order  you  to 
bring  us  back?" 

"I  have  not  seen  your  father.  I  was  returning 
to  the  Caserio  when  I  saw  you  gallop  off.  Perez — 
he  came,  I  see,"  Guara  smiled,  pointing  to  the 
outlaw's  horse.  "He  was  in  Monterey;  I  ride  one 
horse  to  death  trying  to  find  him." 

"Your  reward  shall  not  be  forgotten,  Guara." 

"This  black  mare  is  for  her,"  the  man  grinned, 
nodding  toward  Suzanna.  "She  is  fresh.  Hurry! 
Many  men  come  soon." 

Ramon's  only  plan  so  far  had  been  to  get  away 
from  the  caserio.  He  knew  the  hill  trails  to  the 
west.  One  of  them  led  to  Monterey.  If  they  were 
fortunate  enough  to  reach  there,  they  could  find  a 
haven  of  refuge;  but  the  way  was  overly  long  for 
Suzanna. 

The  Indian  seemed  to  sense  the  boy's  indecision 
as  he  wheeled  his  horse  ahead  of  Suzanna's  mare. 
With  cunning  quite  equal  to  a  white  man's,  Guara 


"WHITHER  DO  WE  GO?"  277 

said  pointedly:  "The  lower  trail  leads  to  San  Car 
melo." 

Ramon  smiled.  Here  was  the  plan  he  had 
lacked!  With  a  wave  of  his  hand  to  the  Indian,  the 
boy  gave  his  horse  its  head  and  he  and  Suzanna 
drew  rapidly  away. 

It  was  forty  miles  to  San  Carmelo.  The  pace 
hegan  to  tell  on  the  girl.  "Whither  do  we  go?" 
she  cried  as  they  swept  down  into  a  rocky  canon. 

"To  the  Mission  San  Carlos  de  Carmelo,"  Ramon 
flung  back  at  her  without  ever  slacking  the  speed  at 
which  they  rode. 

San  Carlos  de  Carmelo, — the  Mission!  Suzanna 
smiled  bravely  to  herself.  What  mattered  this 
torturing  saddle  now? 

She  thought  of  Perez  as  she  rode,  and  of 
the  sacrifice  the  man  had  made  for  her,  for  surely 
he  had  been  captured  that  they  might  ride  free. 
The  man  had  proven  himself  a  true  friend;  and  in 
spite  of  all  his  failings,  Suzanna  found  him  worthy 
of  her  respect. 

The  bandit  had  been  captured  as  she  surmised. 
Indeed,  he  had  made  no  attempt  to  escape;  nor  did 
he  resist  when  Don  Diego  ordered  him  bound. 

Ramon's  act  was  a  cruel  blow  to  Sefior  de  Sola. 


278  SUZANNA 


He  is  to  be  pardoned  for  venting  his  wrath  on 
Perez.  The  bandit  was  the  only  one  of  the  guilty 
ones  to  hand,  and  Don  Diego  had  also  the  matter  of 
his  silver  against  the  man. 

Chiquita  had  'been  carried  away  in  a  faint  from 
Montesoro's  side.  It  was  to  the  dead  man  that  Don 
Diego  pointed  as  he  addressed  the  bound  bandit. 

"You  have  not  the  effrontery  to  deny  that  you 
killed  him,  I  hope?" 

"I  killed  him,"  Perez  answered. 

"You  turn  from  robber  to  murderer  with  sur 
prising  ease,"  Don  Diego  stormed.  "And  only  with 
your  connivance  did  yonder  couple  escape.  I  sup 
pose  you  do  not  deny  that,  either." 

"I  do  not.  As  men  go,  I  have  never  been  known 
as  a  liar." 

"But  are  you  so  calloused  as  to  offer  no  excuse 
for  your  conduct?" 

"I  have  never  been  one  for  excuses,  most  noble 

sir.  Reason,  now,  I  have;  but  excuse ?  No! 

And  although  I  well  may  not  be  alive  to  hear  you 
say  it,  the  day  will  come  when  you  will  admit  that 
I  have  done  you  greater  service  this  day  than  has 
any  man  in  your  time." 


"WHITHER  DO  WE  GO?"  279 

"Well,  give  it  a  name,  then!"  Don  Diego  ex 
claimed. 

"That  shall  remain  for  other  lips  than  mine.  But 
here  are  your  men  with  horses;  although  I  warn 
you,  you  but  waste  your  time  in  attempting  to  follow 
that  fleeing  pair.  My  men  are  in  those  hills  to  the 
west;  if  they  allow  you  to  pass,  it  will  be  because 
they  know  you  come  too  late  to  matter." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ALONE   AT   LAST 

SUZANNA  and  Ramon  did  not  suspect  that  unseen 
friends  guarded  their  escape.  The  boy  urged  the 
horses  on  whenever  the  going  permitted,  and  before 
noon  they  caught  their  first  glimpse  of  the  Mission. 
Even  viewed  from  a  distance,  San  Carlos  de  Car- 
melo  breathed  a  sense  of  rest  and  security.  A  wide 
valley,  mostly  cultivated  meadow  land,  stretched 
between  the  Mission  and  the  spot  where  Ramon  and 
Suzanna  sood  for  a  brief  moment.  They  felt  safe 
now,  for  they  could  win  to  the  Mission  long  before 
any  pursuer  could  descend  from  the  hills  in  back  of 
them. 

Ramon  had  said  no  word  of  love  to  the  girl,  and 
Suzanna,  catching  his  eye,  gazed  from  him  to  the 
Mission,  a  silent  question  on  her  lips.  The  boy 
failed  to  read  her  thought,  so  Suzanna  voiced  her 
words. 

"You  have  not  asked  me  to  marry  you,  Ramon," 

she  said  with  downcast  eyes. 

280 


ALONE  AT  LAST  281 

"Better  far  to  marry  and  ask  afterward,  when 
irate  fathers  are  rushing  hither  to  stop  us,"  the  boy 
answered  gayly.  But  for  all  his  words,  he  forced 
his  horse  alongside  Suzanna's  and  catching  her 
around  the  waist  lifted  her  into  his  arms.  "Art 
hungry  for  a  word  of  love  from  me,  little  one?"  he 
whispered.  "Think  you  that  I  had  forgotten? 
Come,  place  your  arms  about  me,  and  let  me  see 
you  smile  as  my  lips  touch  yours.  The  past  is  in 
back  of  us;  and  as  long  as  we  have  each  other,  how 
matters  it  what  else  the  future  holds?" 

Suzanna  was  tempted  to  tell  him  the  truth  con 
cerning  herself,  but  the  happiness  of  knowing  that 
this  man  loved  her  and  was  willing  to  marry  her 
believing  her  to  be  a  peon,  was  so  great  that  she 
could  not  destroy  it  now.  And  so,  her  eyes  closed, 
she  delivered  her  lips  to  him.  The  wine  of  youth 
coursed  through  her  body  as  her  flesh  met  his. 
Yesterday  was  forgotten;  ahead  of  her  beckoned 
sunlit  days  at  his  side.  Her  spirit  seemed  to  surge 
up  and  take  wings,  and  as  a  bird  that  has  newly 
found  its  freedom,  her  being  soared  to  the  heights. 
Dimly  then,  from  a  distance,  she  heard  Ramon's 
cautioning  voice,  and  felt  herself  placed  in  her 
saddle  again. 


282  SUZANNA 


Neither  spoke  as  they  rode;  a  word  would  have 
broken  the  spell  which  held  that  beautiful  valley 
and  themselves  prisoners.  In  silence,  then,  did 
they  dismount  before  the  Mission.  A  thin  little 
wisp  of  a  man,  clad  in  the  robes  of  the  Franciscans, 
came  out  to  meet  them  as  they  ascended  the  stone 
steps. 

'"  'Tis  easy  to  see,  my  children,  what  brings  you 
here,"  the  little  padre  said  to  them. 

A  smile  from  Suzanna  rewarded  him. 

"It  is  as  you  have  surmised,"  Ramon  declared. 
"It  is  our  wish  that  you  join  us  in  marriage,  holy 
father." 

"But,  my  children,  you  come  without  witnesses, 
— though  that  is  readily  remedied ;  but  the  bans, — 
have  your  names  been  read?" 

Ramon  gulped.  Dumbly  he  looked  at  Suzanna. 
Had  they  been  fools  not  to  think  of  this?  As  he 
looked  at  her,  he  saw  Suzanna's  lips  move. 

"They  have,  good  padre,"  she  said.  "Don 
Ramon  Gutierrez,  son  of  Don  Fernando  Gutierrez; 
and — Chiquita  de  Sola,  the  daughter  of  Don  Diego 
de  Sola." 

"No,  no!"  Ramon  begged. 

The  Franciscan  looked  from  one  to  the  other  as 


ALONE  AT  LAST  283 

these  confusing  statements  greeted  his  ears.  The 
names  the  girl  had  uttered  were  well  known  to  him 
by  hearsay. 

"It  is  the  truth,"  Suzanna  reiterated  bravely.  "I 
am  Chiquita  de  Sola.  Our  names  were  read  in 
Monterey  by  the  Bishop  himself." 

Ramon,  still  dumfounded,  and  only  wondering 
what  had  caused  this  madness  in  Suzanna,  took  her 
in  his  arms  and  endeavored  to  calm  her. 

"No,  Ramon!"  Suzanna  cried,  forcing  him  away 
from  her  as  she  sought  for  the  paper  Perez  had 
given  her.  "I  wanted  to  keep  this  surprise  for  you 
until  we  were  married ;  but  since  it  is  necessary  that 
the  secret  be  told  now,  read  this." 

The  boy  could  but  stare  at  her  as  he  and  the 
priest  finished  reading  Alvarez'  statement. 

"This  is  an  honest  document,"  the  padre  an 
nounced  gravely.  "Seiior  Alvarez  is  our  notary.  I 
recognize  his  signature.  If  you  are  still  of  a  mind 
to  wed,  I  will  call  the  witnesses." 

Ramon's  answer  was  to  open  his  arms  and  take 
Suzanna  into  them,  her  tears  of  happiness  wetting 
his  cheek. 

And  so,  in  the  Mission  San  Carlos  de  Carmelo, 
they  were  wed ;  and  none  too  soon,  for  barely  had 


284  SUZANNA 


the  ceremony  ended  when  a  dozen  horsemen  flung 
themselves  into  the  church,  Don  Fernando  at  their 
head.  His  face  was  livid  with  rage  as  he  advanced 
to  the  chancel.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a  long  raw 
hide  quirt,  and  as  he  realized  that  he  came  too  late, 
he  raised  the  quirt  angrily  and  sent  it  hissing 
through  the  air  at  his  son. 

The  Franciscan  divined  his  intention  too  late  to 
stop  him,  but  even  so  he  was  in  time  to  warn  Ramon, 
but  as  the  boy  stepped  backward,  the  lash  struck 
Suzanna  a  cutting  blow. 

"You  are  in  the  house  of  God!"  the  padre  ex 
claimed.  "I  ask  judgment  on  you!" 

The  whip  fell  from  Don  Fernando's  hand  as  he 
sank  to  his  knees.  "I  beg  forgiveness  for  the 
blow,"  he  groaned.  "I  was  beside  myself.  My 
son  has  denied  me  my  dearest  wish;  he  has  violated 
a  canon  of  our  family  that  forever  debars  him  from 
handing  down  to  posterity  an  ancient  and  honorable 


name." 


A  great  sob  burst  from  his  quivering  lips  as  he 
bowed  his  head  at  his  own  shame  and  his  son's. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  the  little  padre  told  him. 
"Your  son  has  not  married  a  peon.  His  wife  is  of 


ALONE  AT  LAST 285 

blood  as  noble  as  his  own.  Dismiss  your  men  and 
come  into  the  sacristy  with  me." 

Don  Fernando  waited  for  Don  Diego  to  join  him, 
and  together  they  followed  the  priest  behind  the 
altar. 

What  need  to  relate  what  went  on  between  them 
when  they  were  closeted  together?  Anger  gave  way 
to  wonder,  and  grief  to  happiness.  Perez'  words 
came  back  to  Don  Diego.  Truly,  the  man  had  not 
oversaid  himself.  He  had  done  such  service  as  few 
would  dare. 

"They  shall  go  to  my  house  at  once,"  Don  Diego 
exclaimed,  referring  to  Ramon  and  his  bride.  "We 
shall  have  a  second  wedding.  And  when  they  re 
turn  from  their  wedding  trip  they  shall  occupy  the 
very  rooms  to  -which  I  led  Suzanna's  mother." 

"But  my  son  is  to  manage  my  estate,"  Don  Fer 
nando  warned.  "My  house  shall  be  his!" 

"Perhaps  it  were  well  to  allow  the  young  man  to 
decide,"  the  priest  said  wisely.  "Remember,  he 
is  no  longer  a  boy." 

They  returned  then,  to  the  church  proper;  but 
Ramon  and  Suzanna,  as  she  still  chose  to  be  called, 
had  long  since  stolen  away,  and  even  then  were 
racing  their  horses  along  the  wide,  wind  swept 


286  SUZANNA 


beach  beside  the  Pacific.  They  were  alone  at  last; 
off  to  spend  their  honeymoon  as  lovers  have  ever 
wanted  to  spend  it, — in  peace  and  quiet.  So  there 
where  the  waves  of  the  broad  ocean  break  so  gently 
upon  the  white  sands  of  Carmel,  let  us  leave  them, 
knowing  that  through  trial  and  misfortune  they  had 
come  to  such  happiness  as  few  attain. 


THE  END 


YB  67165 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


